


75% Compatibility

by LenahCC



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: A how it began love story, Academy Era, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 72,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenahCC/pseuds/LenahCC
Summary: Further observation had led him to conclude that Cadet Uhura held the very act and institution of learning with reverence. Individuals who respected knowledge correlated to a capability for higher thinking—logic. Given all observable factors, he gauged their work style compatibility to be fair at 75%. And as the undertaking of a teaching aide was mandatory, the cadet was his most logical choice for the role.
Relationships: Spock/Nyota Uhura
Comments: 88
Kudos: 107





	1. An Offer

One of Nyota Uhura’s strengths lay in the sheer simplicity of her goals. 

Her goals were two fold: get into Starfleet Academy under the Samuel S. Hawkins full scholarship program and graduate with enough honors such that she could practically choose her own posting. It was straightforward, laser-focused, and daringly ambitious, and having already achieved the first, her focus now centered on keeping her grades up for a stellar resume. She intended every academic step to be a forward march toward her assignment aboard the NCC-1701 USS Enterprise scheduled to be completed roughly around the time of her graduation based on the latest available progress report accessible to the public.

That being said, Nyota sat chewing her lip as her hands hovered above the touchpad keyboard of her computer. Projected from the screen was an email from her Advanced Phonetics professor last term. It was four days till the start of the academic calendar and Commander Spock had just invited her to consider a position as his teaching aide for her junior year. 

“You’ve been staring at the screen for ages. What’s suddenly interesting about it?” 

Her roommate had just returned back to the Academy after going home to Toronto for summer break. On the other side of the room, Gaila sat on her bed surrounded by haphazardly strewn clothes, scattered belongings and a half-unpacked luggage.

“It’s uhm. Weird. I just got a message from Commander Spock.” 

“Is it a love note?” 

“Gaila, I just said it’s from _Commander_ _Spock_ ,” Nyota’s deadpanned.

“Wouldn’t that be juicier?” 

Nyota threw her an ill-humored look. “ _Gaila._ ” 

“Okay, okay. What does it say?” 

“ _Greetings Cadet Uhrua,_

_Given the workload I have undertaken this academic year, I had been advised to acquire a teaching aide. As your performance in my class the previous semester had been above average, I elect to extend the position to you for the course advanced phonology and communication programming I as this is the most relevant to your field._

_Attendance of class is optional; however, encouraged for the benefit of exposure with students. In the likelihood that I am indisposed, the teaching aide may take command of the class in accordance with the prescribed curriculum._

_Office work may be conducted at my office every M W F 15:30 onwards._ _Kindly inform me of your decision within 3 standard days.”_

She read the class schedules listed. 

_Advanced Phonology II: M W TH 14:05 – 15:30 Habermas Building Room 302-A._

_Communication Programming I.: M 12:30 - 13:45 Room 101,_ _W 12:30 - 13:45 Room 101._

She preferred to take morning classes so her new schedule for the upcoming semester worked fine with the Commander’s classes except for Thursdays which she reserved for choral practice. 

“So what will you do as his aide?”

Nyota clicked on the attached file labeled _teaching aide job description._ “A lot of usual stuff: grading quizzes, scheduling meetings, a particular emphasis on assisting students through consultations.”

Nyota mentally weighed the merits it would add to her resume versus the additional responsibility she’d have to clock in as a teaching aide. 

Her experience with Commander Spock last semester had been straight forward enough. As the _only_ Vulcan instructor in the academy, he was notorious for passing tough grades. She had felt the pressure of his course load more keenly than the others given the instructor’s unwavering standard of quality. Consequently, she had poured almost twice the study hours into that one class. 

His adherence to logic meant he wasn’t the kind of instructor whose pride gets wounded upon correction. On more than one occasion did he acknowledge the validity of her point without snide comments about her _aggressive_ class participation. She liked that about him. 

Plus, she liked how predictable and fair he was, meaning he probably would _not_ be the kind of instructor to expect her, as teaching aide, to pick up after him. In fact, she doubted he even needed her at all. The Vulcan was the most concise and organized being she knew. 

“Ny, wanna hit Bradley’s party at that new club downtown?”

“Shhhh. Wait a sec,” Nyota mumbled as she re-read the email again, lingering on the phrase: _I had been advised._

Gaila surrendered her cause, gave a loud sigh, and retreated to the bathroom. 

_I had been advised._

He definitely did _not_ need her. It was most likely protocol that he would require a teaching aide. She probably wouldn’t be required to do too much . . . but could she bear the awkwardness? 

Commander Spock wasn’t someone she’d consider to be a mentor either since a mentorship entailed a more personal relationship . . . a bit more _concern_. She would probably sit long hours in silence working alongside him—none of the amiable chats by other instructors with their teaching assistants . . . but his intellect and candor was a definite draw. And it will be quite an experience to work alongside a Vulcan—one of Starfleet’s most esteemed graduates at that. He might even help her improve her Vulkhansu and give her more insight into his culture. It would definitely look good, at the very least, on her resume. 

Nyota bit her lip as she positioned her fingers on the screen of her PADD. 

_Greetings Commander Spock, thank you for considering me as your teaching aide. The schedule, with the exception of Thursday, does not pose a conflict. I accept and await further instructions._

* * *

  
When Spock submitted his course load to the faculty secretary three days ago, he had attached an appeal for exemption knowing full well that as per the academic code 434 subsection C: “instructors must not acquire teaching units exceeding thirty without the assistance of a teaching aide.” 

His current semester’s teaching units summed up to 43, a circumstance resulting from the absence of Lieutenant Mendez, the original instructor for all 4 introductory classes of Communication Programming, who was still on maternity leave. The communications dean had appealed to him to take on the workload as his expertise with computers and proficiency in communications made him a good fit. The fact that a teaching aide would be imposed on him was a lapse in memory. 

He had hoped the angle of his appeal, stressing on his Vulcan physiology, would be met with success. Based on experience, there is a pronounced difference in his work ethics as compared to his human colleagues. Back in the academy, he completed academic workload often at twice the efficiency and speed. And, as a ranking officer, his productivity level to date was still marginally superior. 

Humans were simply too easily distracted and they required far too many breaks. Biologically, they also needed more time to rest and recharge on a daily basis whereas he could choose to forego meals and sleep for a period that would be fatal for humans to attempt. The idea that the added teaching courses he undertook would interfere with his Starfleet commitments was both illogical and ignorant. And yet, the academe was determined to rigidly hold him to their rules. 

His appeal was denied and was even brought to the attention of Captain Christopher Pike. The man was one of the few from whom he sought advice.

“It’ll do you good,” the captain had conveyed one day in his office with a smile. The amusement had been lost on Spock. 

“On the contrary, I assess the situation of acquiring a teaching aide unnecessary. I assure you my academic undertaking will not impact the quality of my work as consultant to Commander Malkov with regards to the NCC-1701’s mainframe programs.”

“I’m sure the Academy isn’t worried about sub-par output, Spock. I’m sure keeping an eye on engineering’s drafts for the _Enterprise_ will continue to put those poor chaps on their toes.” A memory of Spock’s lengthy suggestions caused the captain to smile. “But I do think you could use a team, Spock. It could help you be more . . . _approachable_.”

When the statement was met with silence and the typical Vulcan poker face, Pike sighed an air of finality. “Well, just send out some application invitations so you can actually pick the best aide to complement you. If I am to review your application for the Enterprise, I’d need your record unblemished by some shallow technicality.” 

The matter of selecting his teaching aide was where he channeled his attention later that evening as he sat on his heels on his meditation cushion inside his quarters. There was only one candidate he considered worth extending the teaching aide position to: the student who ranked highest in his Advanced Phonology class last semester, Cadet Nyota Uhura. 

The speed in which she came to his mind was only logical. Her academic record stood apart from her peers as did her talent in xenolinguistics. She was a communications department student so she would be suited for two of his classes. And while he was aware how he often unnerved his students, Cadet Uhura had never expressed either fear or any signs of being intimidated. She had consistently turned over work with a quality that met his expectations and spoke—in a variety of languages—with a confidence that he admired. 

Further observation had led him to conclude that Cadet Uhura held the very act and institution of learning with reverence. And individuals who respected knowledge correlated to a capability for higher thinking— _logic_. Given all observable factors, he gauged their work style compatibility to be fair at 75%. And as the undertaking of a teaching aide was mandatory, the cadet was his most logical choice for the role. 

He considered, however, that Cadet Uhura could refuse the offer. He was uncertain about her course load and the range of her extra-curricular activities (excluding her membership at the Academy Chorale which he discovered during his half hour research of the cadet). Should she refuse, Spock could settle for Cadet Whitehall, a former engineering student of average skill who can assist him with his programming and physics classes.

Thankfully, the other candidate he was considering needn’t be contacted as her positive response arrived within two hours of his invitation, and with the efficiency typical of him, Spock stood up from his table and sought the secretarial staff to request for a spare table for his teaching aide. 

* * *

Note: This story has been a part of my “it would be nice to do..” list for YEARSS and with 2020 being lived in careful quarantine, I have finally found the time to push this story out of my head and onto a computer (hurray!). It has been fun to go back to this fandom just for the heck of it and it has safeguarded my sanity in many ways. Also, this story completely ignores the existence of StarTrek Discovery. Happy reading!


	2. First Day

She pressed the doorbell before entering his office. 

“Commander Spock?”

The Vulcan was seated behind his desk, eyes sparing to greet her for two seconds before typing something on the computer. “Please enter, Cadet.” 

The room, Nyota thought, was smaller and narrower than she had expected for an instructor who also happened to be a ranking officer. It was even smaller than the size of her shared dorm room, and it was much more bare. The walls were completely empty and the shelf behind him that ran from the floor to the ceiling was spartan and housed only three binders and six hard drives. 

Her tiny table looked cramped and crammed at the corner facing his 10 o’clock angle. Nyota wanted to smack herself. How could it not even cross her mind to investigate her work space _before_ accepting the post? 

“You may sit down anytime you wish, Cadet.” 

His voice pierced through her thoughts and made her cheeks flush to have been caught in a state of inattention. 

“Yes, sir,” she responded, setting her bag on the edge of the spare table. There was a small neat stack of paperwork on the center of the table. The front page titled _protocol_ and a bullet point list of information. 

She skimmed through the list. 

  * The teaching aide (TA) must observe standard decorum in dress, manner and speech for as long as she is acting as a representative of the faculty.
  * TA may conduct after-class meetings with any student or student group. Meetings must be for the purpose of supporting the student’s performance in class. 
  * TA may request for supporting materials from the instructor or provide her own. 
  * It is within the authority and discretion of the TA to dismiss any disruptive student from the lecture without prior notice to the instructor. 
  * TA may approach the instructor to discuss any concerns or issues with regards to the course work or the student welfare.
  * Proper protocol must be observed for absences and leaves (see attached copy of rules and regulations for faculty) 



Beneath it was quizzes from his Advanced Phonology class as well as the freshman class of Communications Programming. Nyota felt a pang of sympathy for the students who would no doubt be surprised about the test. The academic calendar only started last Wednesday and most students (as well some of the faculty) were still hungover from the break. Not to mention that the freshman must all be so intimidated to have a Vulcan for an instructor. As for the Advanced Phonology class, Nyota remembered her own surprise over the quiz when she had been his student. Luckily, the test covered basic material she had already known so she had managed a good grade. 

“Cadet, as you were my student last semester and have already taken basic programming I trust you would be able to grade the quizzes without any assistance. But should you require it, I have provided an answer sheet.”

“Yes, sir.” 

She sat facing him, her back against the wall, near the one and only window in the room. It was only 1406 hours. Only _six_ minutes have passed. Nyota moaned inwardly about her lack of forward thinking. Living day in and out in roughly the same proximity with Gaila was not a problem. Her dorm mate was amiable, generous, albeit sometimes _too_ talkative and _too_ generous with her opinions. Gaila had a sunny personality that was easy to be around with. But to work in the same proximity with Commander Spock—a very _stoic_ Commander Spock—suddenly felt like the pinnacle of awkwardness. Why didn’t she realize this sooner?

From her seat, she covertly assessed her former instructor. 

She remembered the first time she saw him, striding into the classroom with the brisk efficiency common to his race. A few culturally sheltered cadets at the back of the class snickered over the Commander’s severe hairstyle and slanted brows. She could swear it could be heard to the front of the podium, but his voice and gaze never faltered. 

His presence was striking. His command of the room was undisputed. It hooked her in, made her sit up a bit straighter, urged her ears to listen more intently. He challenged her mind to remain focused on the lecture. Her first day in his class was an hour of hyper awareness.

But Commander Spock in front of the class, or even Commander Spock after class who would listen and clarify her questions, was different from the Commander Spock a little more than one meter away in an 8 square meter room. It was like seeing him with perfect clarity. His angles—the pointiness of his ears, the seemingly unkind slant of his brows looked sharper and more defined. She noticed the slight greenish tint on his skin—a detail lost in the distance. 

She generally felt as she once had on her first day in his class, except now she was serving as his teaching aide: nervous and a lot intimidated. She could hardly even hear him breathe. It was _that_ quiet. 

After a minute more of internally second guessing her decision, Nyota summoned the will to set aside every nervous thought and concentrate on getting her work done. All she had to do was grade papers today. She could be done in half an hour tops. 

* * *

As a faint fragrant scent diffused in the air, his attention was further drawn away from his reading material and into the woman to his left. Cadet Uhura sat in silence, her hand moving over the paperwork he assigned. 

He, on the other hand, could not fully commit to assessing the third draft of the Enterprise’ mainframe system submitted for his input. The application of the latest technology in AI was fascinating. Should it be successfully installed on the Enterprise, it would equip the starship with the best data management technology across all Federation starships. Yet as interesting as the content was, the words on the page kept slipping from his memory the moment his teaching aide stepped into his office. 

He had turned down an offer for a larger office two months and four days ago, citing contentment with his current one. He recognized that the size of office space directly correlated with rank. Humans were often motivated and rewarded with this form of privilege. But as his motivations did not conform to his human peers, it was illogical to accept. He performed well in the space given to him in his first year as an instructor and expected to maintain his level of productivity. Thus, he felt it an unnecessary vanity to relocate to a bigger space.

However, this decision came _before_ he was advised to seek a teaching aide. 

When the support staff arrived with the extra table he had requested, he had sudden qualms about the arrangement. He had never coexisted with another being with such proximity before in his lifetime. As a child, he was the sole offspring of his parents with his much older half brother living away from home. As students, Vulcans were educated in an individual lecture pod as was standard in their education system. As a cadet, he was given his own private quarters, a grant easily made to incentivize his decision in favor of Starfleet Academy. Regardless if the move had been illogical (as his reason for enrolling in Starfleet instead of the Vulcan Science Academy had never been influenced by such privilege), he accepted the arrangements without complaint. 

The enclosed space of his office partnered with the proximity of Cadet Uhura made the work arrangement quite . . . _personal_ . As Spock navigated through his files on the computer, it struck him how this was but a _feeling_ . Logically speaking, the discomfort he felt was due to an encounter with unfamiliar circumstance. It was biological, certainly not _personal_. 

In preparation for her arrival, Spock had gone as far as preparing a list of five questions to ask the Cadet to help her feel more at ease, even though the very engagement of human social customs unnerved him. When the Cadet entered his office, he had considered employing what humans referred to as _small talk_ . It was a form of polite courtesy. He was about to ask the most common small talk opener of “ _how are you_ ” when he noticed the woman hesitate before her table. Spock opted to offer a more relevant comment instead—that of a welcoming invitation: “You may sit down anytime you wish, Cadet.” 

She responded properly and that seemed to him an acceptable start to their professional alliance. He observed her as she picked up the list of instructions he had left. And, illogical as it was to him, he thought it a social courtesy to mention that he had provided her with an answer sheet so as to not put her in a position of needing to ask him for one. 

Once again, she responded with “Yes, sir” and started on the pile laid before her.

He had thought he would be able to focus after appropriately participating in human social norms. It was a failed assumption. She was silent but her presence beside him was distracting. It relieved him that the Cadet did not ask any unnecessary questions. She saw the instructions he had left for her and went straight to work. However, he could not help but notice her. In the classroom, he had only recognized keen intellect in her questions, a quality well defended by her grade point average and recommendations from the communications department. The communications dean Commander Ramirez herself openly praised the cadet’s talent and potential. 

But when the same cadet sat down behind the desk he had acquired for her, Spock realized that he found her aesthetically pleasing—an observation that seemed to have long been pushed into the recesses of his consciousness as it was formerly irrelevant and did not warrant further thought. 

It was an uncomfortable realization he did not desire to dwell on. 

“Commander Spock?” 

Her voice brought his attention back to her, completely spoiling his efforts of concentration. She must have sensed his impatience because her tone wavered and her pitch softened with an emotion he could not identify.

“Sir, I’m done with the quizzes. The average grade for the class is . . . 75%, the highest score being an 89.”

“Thank you, Cadet. You are free to leave. I shall expect you in class next week so I can formally introduce you to the students. Otherwise, you need not regularly attend my other lectures and you may handle student concerns anytime convenient for you.” 

He saw the brief wrinkle in her brows before it smoothened to a neutral countenance. Something in what he said seemed to have caused her discomfort, but she did as he said and respectfully excused herself from the room. 

And it would have been just as it was before, except her scent still lingered in the air. 

* * *

When her door swooshed open, she found her roommate surprisingly without social plans, working on an essay. 

“So I take it alone time with the dashing Commander Spock wasn’t as easy as you thought?” 

“Oh my god, it was so awkward, Gaila!” Nyota agonized, unzipping her boots. She saw her roommate arch her brows as she took off her footwear. 

“And that’s supposed to be surprising . . . _how_?” 

“Ugh. The room’s _tiny_ , and he was _so_ quiet I can hardly hear him breath!”

“He’s not exactly known to be Mr. Congeniality.”

Nyota let out an exasperated sigh and collapsed on the bed. “I don’t know if I made a mistake.” 

Seemingly able to sense her anxiety, Gaila countered with reassurance. “It’s just a school year. And like you said, it’ll look good on your file: _capable of managing responsibilities on top of stellar academic records_ and highlighted skill: _capable of keeping wits while inside small room with severely serious Vulcan._ ”

It was delivered with such sass that Nyota couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure he’s not all that bad.” 

“Yeah. Well, in another world where the Commander isn’t Vulcan, the premise of being stuck in a small room could be _really_ hot.”

“Gaila!” 

“I’m just trying to cheer you up,” the Orion said to her defense. “And it’s true. Look on the bright side. He’s not bad to look at. In fact, I know _loads_ of cadets and female faculty who’d totally jump him—and I’m not just talking about the ladies— _hey!_ ” The crumpled t-shirt missed its target and landed on top of her PADD. 

“I don’t want to think about Commander Spock like that!” Nyota hissed.

“You know, I overheard Cadet Sandra Gupta gossiping about Commander Spock’s sex life. Do you think he’s ever gotten laid?” 

“Right. This conversation is done.” Nyota hurriedly slipped on her trainers while Gaila continued her rambling. 

“I mean think about it. How old is he? Do you think he’s still a virgin?” 

“I’m not hearing you, Gaila.” Nyota grabbed the duffel bag at the edge of her bed and made a beeline for the door. “I’m heading out for a run.” 

She didn’t escape fast enough. The last question lodged itself in her mind even as she pushed herself to completing her last 200m sprint. _Has he ever been with anyone?_

She did wonder. His room was devoid of any holos—any personal artifact, actually. Nyota knew if she ever had an office it wouldn’t be complete without _at least_ three holos of her friends and family.

She wondered if the silence ever bothered him, if he was ever lonely. 


	3. How to be Approachable

Three weeks into the semester, Spock’s schedule continued its predictable course. He woke at 0530 to 0600 hours, meditated for fifteen minutes, engaged in a brief physical exercise, showered, took his tea, and lectured. He consumed his mid day meal alone inside his office, and, depending on his lecture schedule, conducted research or administrative duties in the afternoon. He held open office hours between Tuesday and Thursdays, and his days ended just as he started it: with meditation. 

The only difference was the presence of his teaching aide who sat at the back of his Communications Programming and Advanced Phonology lectures on Wednesdays and dropped in his office for administrative tasks such as grading his weekly quizzes for both classes on Wednesdays and Fridays. 

“ _Sir_.” 

Her crisp call to attention pierced through his thoughts. It took only four steps for her to reach him and hand over the grading PADD. “I’ve finished grading the second quiz for your comms programming class. The average grade for all four classes is only 60%. The highest grade for Monday Class is a 90% while the highest grade for Wednesday class is 82%.” 

Spock studied the results with a neutral face. The average for his Monday class was especially dismal at 49%. It was safe to conclude that his entire freshman programming class was not putting forth the performance he expected for such a basic and introductory lecture. He had never instructed first years before and wondered if he had missed some kind of Terran initiation protocol. 

His aide remained standing before his desk and he caught a peculiar movement of her biting her lower lip. Spock was unsure if the gesture held any meaning. 

“Sir, may I say something?” The tone in her voice was something he’d associate with nervousness though the reason for this was lost on him. 

“Yes, Cadet?” 

Nyota swallowed. “Sir, I think the current pace of the class might be too fast for first years.” 

Spock stared and noted that while Cadet Uhura was exhibiting signs of discomfort, she nevertheless held his gaze. Her eyes were brown, in an approximate shade of walnut. 

“Please expound.” 

“Well, sir, when you administered the quiz last Wednesday, I noticed the students’ expressions while they were taking their tests. I know this is a really subjective interpretation, but they looked pretty . . . lost. The inquiries I‘ve been receiving from the students also seem to be basic information covered by Chapter four. You are currently on Chapter Eleven.”

“The inference that a majority of the class do not adequately know the lecture matter can be regarded as fact based from the poor class average you have just graded,” Spock stated, causing the cadet to flush for stating the obvious. “I shall inquire of them their areas of deficiency in the next class.” 

With that, the cadet turned back to her desk. Spock assumed the matter at an end and was piqued when the woman returned to face him, her arms crossed across her chest. “Sir, if I may add, your Wednesday class in particular is a little worse off, and I have a theory.” Rather than wait for his response, Nyota simply continued: “I combed through their student files and saw that 70% of the Wednesday Class are new transfers to the bay area. This group attended secondary schools that are off planet, mostly from Federation Starbases. It’s an unusual concentration as compared to Monday class’s 23%. I can’t exactly prove it as the students are shuffled differently for their other classes, but I’d suggest that they might be having a more difficult time adjusting.” 

He was about to inquire after her suggestion when she gave it anyway. “Sir, if I may be bold to suggest that I take over your class next week? If you ask them which parts are unclear, I doubt they’ll talk because, well . . .” Her reasoning trailed off and kept him hanging. Humans, he knew, had the tendency to cut off their sentences whenever the subject was leading to a point that was particularly offensive for their audience or whenever a joke is implied that is already known to the audience.

Spock ruled out on the humor as he did not perceive the cadet to be smiling and settled on the former. “Because what, Cadet?”

He watched as her lower lip got sucked between her teeth again and the Vulcan inferred it to be an uneasy gesture. Somehow the movement emphasized the shape of her lips, and Spock found the observation uncomfortable.

“Well, because you’re kind of _intimidating_ , sir, and I mean it with no offense.”

He processed Cadet Uhura’s proposition and concluded that it was logical. She knew the subject matter well enough and was fulfilling her role in assisting him as his teaching aide. It was also fortuitously convenient as he would have more time to review the proposal of the Enterprise’ mainframe programs and research potential alternatives to what Engineering had drafted.

“You may proceed as you suggest, Cadet.” 

The woman let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir. I will promptly brief you on my progress with each class on Wednesday.” 

Cadet Uhura’s departure brought him a sense of relief that pointed to the glaring fact that even after three weeks he had still not acclimated to her presence in his office. He was still unusually aware of her. 

He had a straightforward and smooth arrangement with Cadet Uhura, and he found that her behavior was an admirable adherence to the conduct code. As his student last term, she had reinforced the model behavior of a student while inside the classroom, and as his teaching aide, her conduct was most professional. She conducted her work efficiently and silently. She spoke to him whenever she only thought it necessary. More than once did she answer a student’s inquiry accurately after class and explain it in a manner easier for human logic to grasp (a feat he had difficulty in on occasion). Hence, the fact that he felt uneasy in her presence was without justifiable reason. It was illogical. And while he could not ascertain her sentiments, he held an assumption that she was not quite at ease with him either. 

He once overheard Lieutenant Angela Goldberg, an instructor of Interspecie Ethics and Diplomacy courses who occupied the office adjacent to his, gesture to a stammering first year cadet to take a seat and say: “At ease, Cadet. Make yourself comfortable.” 

Spock had then dismissed the words as unnecessary coddling. Now, he thought the gesture warranted consideration. After a few more minutes of reflection, he was able to identify his chief source discomfort: it was the idea that working with him was unsatisfactory and unpleasant _for her._

In her words, he was _intimidating._

 _Unapproachable_ —he had heard colleagues and faculty members use such words to describe him. Captain Pike brought it up as one of the reasons why getting an aide would be beneficial for him. He never really processed the matter before simply because he was indifferent to other people’s opinions. His role as an instructor and as a scientist was not to be approachable but to impart lessons to his students and to explore a data-driven world. 

Yet while he can disregard his students’ and even colleagues’ opinions, he realized he did not desire Cadet Uhura’s opinion of him to be poor.

Since they were to continue to work together in close proximity for the remainder of the school year, Spock concluded it would be wise to encourage some form of camaraderie with Cadet Uhura. And, thereby, the only reasonable course of action would be to exert the effort required to make his aide _feel_ more comfortable. 

Spock took a deep inhale and tapped on the screen before him. He had a lot of uncertainties concerning the subject and would need further research. 

* * *

Nyota let out an exhale and looked at her sparring partner. She couldn’t see his face behind the black mask, but the way he held his wooden sticks indicated a level of familiarity with the sport. She signed up for Kali, an ancient Asian martial arts that trained cadets to wield and fight with dual wooden swords, as her Advanced Combat Training class for the semester. She particularly liked that Advanced Combat Class didn’t have a fixed schedule. It gave the responsibility of training initiative to the students. She only needed to log in a minimum amount of attendance hours and pass the end of term combat exam. 

At the signal of a general instructor, she tapped her sticks against her opponent’s to begin and immediately jumped back to a defensive stance. 

She’d been a nervous wreck around Commander Spock, and it infuriated her. What was wrong with her? She didn’t used to be like this in his class. There was something about being so up close and personal with him in that tiny room that made her skittish, and, honestly speaking, she still felt that the whole thing was a mistake. 

Her opponent lunged forward in a series of attacks which she parried effectively. The sound of wood clapping against each other was loud against her ears and the rest of the studio faded away from her focus. They both retreated and came forward in synchronized attack drills. 

Commander Spock’s freshman class wasn’t doing so well. She had heard all about it. A couple baby-faced freshmen were groaning under his tutelage and whining all over the anonymous academy chat boards. She didn’t like everything that she read, especially when the criticism against the Commander turned to a barely concealed hate speech.

_Pointy ears. Bowl Bangs. Vulcan loser with a massive stick up his ass._

She gripped her swords and made a quick attack when her opponent showed an opening. She wasn’t quick enough, however, and her blows got parried.

It happened last term too. Some of her classmates who didn’t particularly do well in his sophomore Advanced Phonology class demeaned themselves by indulging in mean rhetoric that Vulcans have impossible standards that made his grading unfair. Earlier in the office, she had stolen a glance at the Commander and wondered if he knew what was being said about him. His features did not betray any hurt. The guy probably thought being hurt was _illogical_. It was somewhat admirable, she thought, to not care what others thought. 

Her opponent made a series of strikes that almost caught her off guard. Her arms were starting to get sore. Every impact of wood against wood made her muscles groan, making her regret slacking off in her workouts during summer break. Nyota decided the best move would be to launch quick successive offenses. If she was lucky, she might just land a blow to end the session. She kept the distance between them as she readied herself. 

What was it exactly that unnerved her? Her thoughts unconsciously drifted back to the Commander’s office. She felt so conscious of wanting to impress him and inversely so cautious of not saying anything stupid that she second guessed every word to come out of her mouth. She just didn’t want to look incomepetent, not after she worked so hard last term to achieve a laudable course grade from the Vulcan. 

Her offenses came in quick but lacked the muscle to thwart off her opponent. In the end, she was the one who was caught off guard and a tip of her opponent’s sword landed a jab on her waist, cushioned by the padded vest. 

“You okay?”

Her opponent removed his mask and revealed smooth Asian features and a damp mess of black hair. He was in command track and she knew him by name: Hikaru Sulu. “That was some serious sparring.” 

Nyota grinned. “You’re pretty good at this.” 

“I should be. I’ve been doing different sword combat training since I was twelve. But that said, our sparring just told me not to get on your bad side or risk getting my ass whooped.” 

She laughed and took his outstretched hand. “I’m Uhura. In communications. Xenolinguistics.” 

“Sulu,” he countered. “Command track specializing in Helm Aviation. I’ve heard about you. You’re like 8th in our batch? The word out there is that you’re the best in comms.” 

Nyota gave a shy shrug and toweled off. 

“Anyway, it’s Friday night. You heading to Bar Delta later? Huge party.” 

Three weeks of being Commander Spock’s teaching aide made her feel so wound up that a night out getting buzzed sounded pretty good. 

“Yeah, I heard about that. My roommate will no doubt drag me to go.” 

As Sulu retreat to the locker rooms, she glanced down at her PADD. It was only 1804 hours. She had time to kick back and relax before the party. 

* * *

  
“Commander Spock!” 

Spock stopped on his tracks amidst the dispersing crowd and turned to address his caller, one Lieutenant Maverick, who was one of his first students in engineering and who was now a talent onboard one of most promising research team in cryogenic energy travel.The team had just imparted their latest findings condensed in an hour and a half of enlightening presentation and discussion at the school’s promenade. Attending the conference was, in Spock’s opinion, a pleasing activity for a late Friday afternoon. 

He waited for the young scientist to catch up. “Lieutenant Maverick,” he greeted.“Sir, I saw you in the audience and thought I had to say hi and say thank you at the very least.” 

It was always pleasing to see bright students excel in their chosen fields, but he found himself lost as to the ensign’s meaning. “My attendance in this event does not warrant your gratitude.” 

The young man looked suddenly flustered and Spock wondered if he might have mistaken his meaning. The Terran language is so potent with hidden meanings and socially-accepted contradictions that it was difficult to ascertain responses with logic alone. 

“Oh, of course not. I meant to say thank you for the lessons you imparted when I was in your Quantum Physics class. You were one of the toughest instructors I’ve ever had in the academy, but it really pushed me to be more. And now I’m here.” 

Spock found himself thoroughly perplexed on how to respond. Taking credit for doing what he was expected to do was glaringly unnecessary. Lieutenant Maverick was quick to smooth over the silence with a “Well, that’s all, sir. I’m sorry if I’m probably weirding you out. It’s just an honor to have you in the audience. Would it be possible for our team to get your feedback on our research?” 

A direct question demanded a response. Spock relaxed. “Certainly. My email address remains the same. You may send me your material for review.” The young man muttered another string of thanks and Spock resumed walking toward the exit. He was mindful of the time, having scheduled to receive a call from his mother in seventeen minutes. 

Calculating the distance of the lecture hall to his room in the faculty housing, he would certainly be late if he opted to walk his usual route. To travel by transporter seemed unnecessary given the distance involved; and so the most logical path, he concluded, would be through the student dorms. 

  
His pace was steady on the pavement as student joggers ran past him. It was already early evening and plenty of students were enjoying post academic activities, especially while the season was still warm and the days long. Spock noted a few stares in his direction, but former students and current ones generally averted their gazes. He also generally avoided lingering on any detail but was alerted by the shape of a female cadet sitting on the lawn in front of Dorm C.

Recognition was instantaneous. It was not often that he would encounter his teaching aide outside his office or the communications building. Spock found himself slowing his pace as he observed the cadet enjoying her reading material and partially eaten Macintosh apple. Her features were concentrated on her PADD, and she looked . . . _peaceful._

And aesthetically pleasing. 

Spock frowned. But certainly it was only logical to state truths. Cadet Uhura’s facial symmetry reasonably would elicit admiration. 

He watched as an Orion cadet joined her. Humor must have been exchanged because Cadet Uhura parted her lips and let out a laugh. A jolting sensation travelled to the tips of his ears and he felt himself flush with discomfort. Spock tore his gaze away from the cadet and quickened his pace, eager to leave the scene and return to his quarters. He managed to reach his quarters promptly enough and heard the first ring of his comm device just as he got through the door.

The holo-figure of Amanda Grayson appeared before his dining table, looking at him with a smile on her face, her standard greeting for a long absent son. 

“Spock.” Her voice was maternal warmth.

“Hello, mother.” 

Amanda noted the clipped tone and her son’s quickened breathing. She thought he looked abashed. “Did you just come home? Where did you come from?” 

“I attended a research lecture, and it had just concluded,” he stated. And when his teaching aide wafted into his thoughts, he rushed to add: “You are looking well, mother.”

“Thank you. I’ve been doing my share of lectures—but I don’t want to talk about that. How is your semester so far, Spock?”

“Adequate. You are quite familiar with my lessons as I committed to the same classes as the last two semesters. The only new course I am teaching is Communications Programming, a first year course.” 

Amanda’s eyes widened. “You got assigned to teach freshmen? That’s curious.”

Spock paused. “I fail to discern your meaning.” 

His mother’s lips quirked upwards, indicating amusement. “Oh, just that I didn’t think it would be wise to scare off new students like that. You’ll need to tone down on your logic and tune in to your students. Many of them are probably still homesick. Poor things.” 

Spock shifted his glance, unnerved by how accurate his mother’s intuition was. 

Said mother’s intuition also led her to probe. “Is something wrong, Spock?” 

“Mother, I understand that my being Vulcan, specifically my adherence to logic, makes humans uncomfortable. Yet I am uncertain how to manage such that I do not cause too much discomfort to others without compromising my philosophy.” 

The surprise that crossed her features reminded him that it had been some years--not since he had left for Starfleet did he ask for her advice. Amanda only smiled. “Oh darling, you only need to be _kind_. You can be as logical as you want because that is who you choose to be. Remember, humans simply like social courtesies and being shown kindness and being recipients of small gestures of thoughtfulness.”

When he did not comment, Amanda changed the subject and inquired into the progress of the Enterprise, the Fleet’s newest flagship.

“The NCC-1701 is nearing a critical phase in the formulation of its mainframe system. A team of experts are currently drafting the codes.” 

“It’s quite the news here in Starbase 11. I’ve read about it in the Vulcan News too. It’s supposed to be quite impressive. Are you still keen to be assigned there?”

Spock clasped his hands behind his back. “Affirmative. I’ve already submitted my application to Captain Christopher Pike.” 

“Oh dear, I’ll see even less of you then.” 

He caught on to a hint of sadness in her tone. His mother had never bothered tempering down on her very human habit of worrying. “My application has not yet been accepted, but should it be so, I will still be accessible to calls, mother, such as we are doing now.”

Amanda gave him an almost sulky look. “Well, it’s not quite the same.”

“Then it is fortunate that your scheduled trip to San Francisco is near.” 

He noted the slump on his mother’s shoulders. “I’m afraid not, Spock. That’s what I intended to tell you. I will have to delay my trip for another three weeks. Your father has contracted a rather severe flu and while he insists he is capable of caring for himself, I just want to make sure he rests well.” 

Spock paused at this unexpected turn of events and nodded. “I understand.”

“I do hope you’re having a good semester so far. Any…” Amanda cleared her throat, the corner of her mouth lifting in her usual manner—when she meant to be prying about his social life. It was his mother’s covert obsession, another one of her distinctly human, maternal traits. “Any new persons in your life, Spock?” 

“There are new faces in the faculty office, though I am not yet acquainted with them.” 

Cadet Uhura came into mind yet again. As someone who now shares his office space two times a week, she ought to have counted as someone worthy of mention to his mother’s particular inquiry, but for a reason he had yet to decipher, he refrained from giving out this particular information. 

“Oh. Well…” His mother looked like she was about to break into one of her maternal speeches dictating her many worries for him, but Amanda Grayson stopped herself and with a shake of her head. “Well, I’ll call you again once I’ve rescheduled my transport to Earth.” 

“Good day, mother.”

She beamed at him and moved to hug him. It was a strange habit as they could never really touch, but Spock surmised it was the gesture that counted. “Goodbye, darling.”

The woman faded the instant the call ended, leaving Spock alone in his quarters. His plan had been to surprise his mother with tickets to the San Francisco Symphony. Her trip, as originally scheduled, coincided with a concert on Terran classical music featuring the famous Vulcan harpsichord musician Ne’Veya which he was certain she would have appreciated. 

Spock considered whether or not it was worth selling his extra ticket, but as he did not particularly care for company, he opted to set the ticket aside. He opened his PADD and projected the contents on to a bare wall in his living area. 

“Computer, search _gestures of thoughtfulness_.” 

An article titled: _7 Thoughtful Gestures That Show You Care_ came on top of the search list. Spock tapped on it and scrolled down to the list.

  1. **Compliments go a long way**



_People have a tendency of saying flattery will get you far, but there is a big difference between acknowledging a wonderful trait someone has and trying to butter them up. Complimenting someone on their work ethic, dedication to a cause or even the way they carry themselves not only shows that you notice things about them, but that you appreciate it. It will motivate them and, as a bonus, you can watch their faces light up._

Spock raised an eyebrow. Faces are not a conduit of electricity and therefore cannot ‘light up’. It was yet another example of how confusing Federation Standard English can be. 

  1. **Sharing is truly caring**



_No, we are not talking about just sharing your lunch now. We are talking about the fact that if you go to the fridge to get something, asking if anybody else would like something at the same time is sweet and caring. Also, it is all good and well to have the last cookie out of the jar, but asking if someone present would like to share it with you, goes a very long way. These simple acts of kindness eliminates any possibility of you being thought of as selfish._

Using the term ‘sweet’ to describe a person is synonymous to ‘pleasant’, though certainly pleasant was the more accurate description. 

  1. **Silly notes for a smile**



_Be it a friend or a lover, who doesn’t like silly notes that elicit a smile? Hiding a note written on a post-it in a book your friend is reading, just to say that you appreciate them in your life is an awesome way to let them know that you care--_

He halted reading, finding the premise absurd, and jumped to the next line. 

  1. **Gifts just because**



_Waiting around for Valentine’s Day, birthdays and Christmas to get the people in your life gifts is clichéd and generic. Whilst days like holidays are important, it’s those gifts you give for no reason at random points that say you are really paying attention. You heard your friend’s under the weather? Grab them a classic sick day movie from the store. Passing a book store, then get a book for that friend who loves to read. You pass the chocolate isle, get a bar of chocolate for that friend who would devour the whole thing in one sitting. They make the most impact when it’s just because I am thinking of you._

Spock recalled how his father would, on some occasions, bring back “gifts” to please his mother. It seemed to him like a frivolous activity. Should her mother dislike the gift as it was purchased without her consultation, then it would be wasteful. 

  1. **A hug a day keeps the doctor away**



Spock grimaced. Certainly this does not apply to touch telepaths like Vulcans. He would rather not come into accidental contact with humans only to catch glimpses of a personal memory. The human mind is practically a password unprotected database. His hands also contain twice the nerve endings as that of humans, making it particularly sensitive to touch.

  1. **Stepping outside your comfort zone to try something new**



_Ever had that friend or partner who was never willing to try something new or something you like just because it was not their thing? If you have you will understand just how much that can hurt, and how much it says that they do not care—_

This reasoning is something he cannot comprehend. Respecting individual agency is a basic courtesy in Vulcan and it is a standard expectation that everyone ought to aim to be as self-reliant as possible. But in Terran culture it is considered selfish not to indulge a friend or a partner every now and then. One is expected to sacrifice personal preferences for the sake of bonding with others. Furthermore, helping others ought to be regularly considered.

  1. **Listen**



_This is probably one of the biggest indicators of how much you care about someone. Being willing to stop talking about yourself long enough to listen to what someone else has to say, even if it’s just another boring detail about their day, says that you care in a silently-loud way._

_The art of showing you care is all about the small acts of kindness and extending small courtesies._

Was he also expected to listen to illogical ramblings and unfounded theories? Certainly that would only be a waste of his time. Spock turned off his PADD, ending the projection on his wall. His asenoi lay on the low coffee table and he lit it without further thought. The day left him with a lot to meditate upon. 

Being with humans was exhausting.   
  


* * *

Note: the article 7 Thoughtful Gestures That Show You Care was taken from spoonfullofcomfort.com.The scene of Spock observing Nyota is something I took from my other older fic The Space Between. 


	4. Breaking the Ice

Nyota gave two courtesy knocks on the office door. 

“Come in.”

Commander Spock sat behind his desk with a trained focus on his screen. Not once did he look in her direction. He wasn’t the kind to ask about things he already knew about, and she was getting used to it. He knew she would be conducting the reviews and  _ trusted  _ (her preferred interpretation) that she conducted it adequately. 

She had just finished her review session for the Wednesday class, and Nyota was prepared to pat herself on the back for it. She took a moment in her seat to rest. 

As expected, the moment the students found out that their Vulcan instructor would not be gracing the lecture room, the mood livened up immediately. She started off by conducting an ice breaker, requesting the cadets to state their name, home town, and dream assignment post graduation. Some laughs were shared along the way. Wrapping it up, she shared about her own experience of being a freshman wracked with homesickness. 

She had been homesick for the first two months of term, she recalled, having never lived away from home. She missed her mom and her sister Maisha so hard she got anxiety attacks. But what kept her grounded was her goals. She was one of three recipients of a prestigious scholarship. Being on Starfleet academy was a gift from people who believed she could make something for herself. 

She then explained the importance of the course and what they all could expect to achieve at the end of the term. Communications Programming was a foundational course for anyone wishing to man a comms station or get a posting on the bridge. Each student was then asked where she ought to begin her review and she probed for honest answers. In the end, Nyota had to start from Chapter Three, foundational equations for programming, a lesson from the  _ second _ week of term.

A sudden movement from the Commander brought her to attention, but she relaxed once she understood that he was only getting up to get himself a glass of water. 

“Commander Spock?” 

He paused with a glass in hand and looked back at her.

“I believe the Monday class has adequately caught up with Chapter seven. You can perhaps take a few minutes to go over Chapter eight, which is where you left off last week. The Wednesday class, however, has progressed at a slower pace. May I request I continue reviewing them next week? We just got to Chapter six when the bell rang earlier.” 

“That is a reasonable request, Cadet. You may proceed.” 

Nyota stared at the way he held his glass. There was a gracefulness in the Commander that she noticed. His movements were fluid. 

“Ice breaker took longer today,” she added, just to fill in the silence. 

His slanted right brow creased slightly. “What is an  _ ice breaker _ ?”

“It’s an activity to reduce tension by familiarizing oneself with other people. It’s hard to talk to strangers right off the bat, but once you get to know their name and some basic information, you begin to relax and become more willing to share a conversation.” 

_ Fascinating. _ Some kind of human socialization protocol. Spock had observed humans to be inhibited by  _ shyness _ , which was non-existent among his species. He could easily discuss a matter with a Vulcan he was not acquainted with as well as he can with a member of his community. Conversing was simply a matter of necessity. Therein lay the problem of  _ small talk,  _ another socialization practice employed by humans. While shallow ramblings on personal matters were necessary for human socialization, it was completely uncomfortable for Vulcans.

“I shared some of my own experiences as a freshman too, and it really improved the mood.” 

He was looking at her so intently that she wondered if she was overexplaining herself. Maybe the Commander wasn’t interested since he didn’t exactly inquire about it. It was her nerves talking. 

“Cadet Uhura, would you like a glass of water?” 

Nyota stared back. “Uhm. Yes, please.” 

She watched the Vulcan go through the motions of procuring her, as well as himself, a glass of water. He laid hers on her table before returning to his seat. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

She brought the glass to her lips, her mind bewildered by the thoughtful gesture. He did not seem to think much about it, but it brought a small smile on her lips. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. 

Her aura relaxed after consuming the beverage he had procured for her, Spock observed covertly from his desk. And recalling the contagious quality of her discomfort, he likewise began to feel more at ease, indicative of the slight relaxing of his shoulder muscles. 

Spock willed himself to focus on completing the feedback on Ensign Maverick’s research paper. He was just about to sign off on the email when he heard the faint sound of string instruments. When he trailed the melody to its source, he saw that it was coming from his aide’s ear pods. 

“That is not the sound of a violin.” 

Nyota nearly jumped in her seat and plucked out the device from both ears. The earpods were advertised to be sound proof, and she’d been using it in her dorm and in the library since last term. Gaila never mentioned it was defective. How embarrassing. 

“No, sir, it’s an African instrument called nyatiti,” she explained.

“How many strings?” 

“The standard is eight, sir.” Nyota considered whether to add more. “It’s an ancient art among my people and dates back millenniums ago when Kenyans were still separated into tribes.” 

He said nothing then, but she noticed the flicker of interest in his eyes.  _ Curiosity _ .

“We have a similar instrument in Vulcan called  _ ka’athyra _ .” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that. Do you play?” 

“I played daily as a child and am proficient,” he confirmed. 

Nyota waited for a few seconds to see if he would add anything more to his statement. When he didn’t, she said, “Well, I can’t play. I’m better at listening.” 

“But you are talented with vocals.”

_ How did he know that?  _

As if he read her mind, he added, “ I read in your file that you are a part of the Academy Choral Club.”

_Of course._ _He seems the type to do his research._ Nyota stifled a laugh, finding it funny to imagine the serious Commander Spock absorbing something as trivial as her extra curricular activities. 

“You are humored.”

His statement of the obvious tickled her further. She grinned and felt her posture slack. “I wouldn’t say I’m super talented, but I sing okay.” 

He took note of her admission with a single nod. 

When Nyota thought that it was safe to return to her work, the Commander’s voice breached through the silence once again.

“Cadet Uhura, there will be a concert this Saturday evening 2000 hours at Davies Symphony Hall. I currently have a spare ticket since my companion had an unfortunate conflict of schedule. The concert will feature a famous Vulcan musician Ne’Veya. She will be playing the ka’athyra. Would you be interested in attending the event?” 

Out of all the possible things he could have said, never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined the very  _ Vulcan _ Commander Spock to invite her to a music concert. His leveled gaze pressured a prompt response from her. She wasn’t even thinking anymore.

“ _ Yes _ .” Her pitch was unnaturally high, and she prayed the Commander didn’t notice. 

“Let us convene outside the Hall at 1945 hours.”

Nyota nodded, her mind a tumbling mess of thoughts. “Okay, sure. Thank you.”

She watched as the Commander promptly went back to his typing as if they had simply exchanged pleasantries on the weather. He was utterly baffling. The rest of the time she spent in his office became a struggle to concentrate on her work.

* * *

She didn’t register the weird body position of her green roommate as the room door swooshed to a close behind her. Nyota absent mindedly tossed her key card on the bed and began undressing without a word. 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“You look like you’re in the warp zone. Did something happen?” 

Nyota blinked and finally noticed that her room mate was in some inverted position with her knees against her forehead and her arms stretched out on the bed. 

“Are you doing yoga?”

“It’s supposed to relieve stress. My interspecies protocol III class is killing me. Anyway, what’s up with you?” 

_ Commander Spock just asked me out to a concert.  _

_ No, he didn’t ask me out. He just asked,  _ she corrected.  _ I think he was being nice. Like when he offered the glass of water.  _

_ A music concert is  _ _ not  _ _ like fetching a glass of water, Nyota. It’s like a date. Why did you say yes?! _

_ Don’t even think about it like that! He definitely did not have that intention. He has a spare ticket. He noticed I liked music. His thought process must have been as simple as that. He was being nice. _

_ But why did you have to say yes?  _ She internally whined. 

“You’re having a monologue in your head aren’t you. Will you just answer my question? It’s making me think of the worst case scenarios.” 

Their eyes locked, and Nyota let out a groan. “I wasn’t thinking straight.” 

When the whole story finally poured out of her lips, she was curled up in bed with her face smothered under a pillow. “I was so stunned that I said yes simply by reflex. Oh god, Gaila, it’s going to look inappropriate. I’ll tell him that something’s come up tomorrow and that I can’t go.” 

“Maybe you’re overthinking this, Ny. He probably just thought it was logical. He has an extra ticket, and he found out you like stringed music instruments. And you know how literal Vulcans can be. Seeming inappropriate isn’t really  _ being _ inappropriate. Get what I mean?” 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Nyota sighed. “He seems weirdly nice today. He even offered me a glass of water. Maybe he’s making an effort to be friendly.” 

The more she thought about it, the more the idea warmed to her. 

She did like music concerts. And it’s not like he asked to meet her for dinner too. Now  _ that  _ would have sounded more like a date. 

“He even said his companion had schedule conflicts.” 

“Oooo Commander Spock had a date, and she cancelled on him.” 

Nyota fixed her eyes on the ceiling. She couldn’t imagine the Commander out on the dating scene, but that’s ridiculous. His specie wasn’t asexual. Maybe he already had a girlfriend for all she knew.

“If his date bailed on him, I can’t do the same.”

“Great. Now that you’re not freaking out about your Vulcan Commander, can you help me out with IS protocol? It doesn’t make sense. Why can’t Orions mate with Talkonites? I mean if you ask me. If attraction is mutual and whatever needs to fit can fit--I’m all for it!” 

* * *

She knew it was not a date, but the prospect of meeting Commander Spock outside of school grounds made her nervous. She had run into a few members of faculty in cafes and pubs before, of course, and had even been able to share pleasantries with some teachers whose class she excelled at. But those had been random encounters rather than a rendezvous. 

When the shuttle dropped her off the stop closest to Davies Hall, she saw her two-second hazy reflection from the black screen before the bus time schedule flashed on. She was out of uniform but opted to cover up with a light black turtle neck and a high-waisted cream trousers that tapered off at her ankles. She wore pointed kitten heels in black--a  _ smart _ attire. The sky was a shade of pale blue twilight by the time she rounded the corner of the venue, and there was a steady stream of people heading inside. 

Just before the entrance steps, stood Commander Spock. He had his hands clasped behind him as if he was giving a lecture and was wearing civilian clothes that looked like a royal blue version of the faculty uniform. He gave a small nod of acknowledgement when their eyes met. 

Nyota broke the silence first. “I’m sorry, Commander, I hope you didn’t wait long?” 

“There is no need to apologize, Cadet Uhura. We agreed to convene at 1945, and it is only 1943. Shall we go inside?”

She smiled. “Sure.” 

Spock felt his mind stall for a full second. He never really noticed how much difference there was to being the recipient of a smile as compared to being a casual observation of one. Was this why humans smiled so much at each other? He was contemplating on it still when security scanned their tickets from his PADD. 

“Sir, can I get the seat number? I just need to go to the bathroom first.” 

“Certainly. G18.” 

He seated himself and observed that the hall was at full occupancy tonight. He also spotted a notable number of Vulcans among the crowd of humans and other species. To his right sat an old human male. The man, who he estimated to be around his 70s, eyed the empty seat beside him and winked. 

“On a fancy date, eh? Thought I’d bring the old missus out myself.” 

“Sir, you misunderstand. I am not on a romantic appointment.”

No more than fifteen seconds after his response did Cadet Uhura arrive. At the sight of her, the old man gave the cadet a friendly wave and gave him another wink. “Ahh to be young.” 

He was contemplating on whether or not to repeat his statement and clarify his position to the elderly seatmate when the Cadet whispered: “Wow, it’s a full house.” 

“The featured musician is very popular on my planet.” 

“Well, I’m honored that you invited me, sir.” She said this just as the lights dimmed and the audience clapped. 

He looked at the side of her profile, eyes bright with wonder, and said nothing. The first two pieces were orchestrated by the San Francisco Symphony followed by a brief introduction to the Vulcan harpsichord musician Ne’Veya. When she emerged on stage, he heard Nyota gasp. 

“She’s gorgeous.” 

His forehead wrinkled. That too was a statement of fact, but one that would not have been brought to his mind had she not said so. His aide looked enraptured by the performance. A faint smile was one her lips as she listened the whole time.

To his relief, his elder seatmate did not engage the cadet in a conversation during intermission. It would be unfortunate to cause his companion discomfort with the baseless speculation of romance. Was taking a companion to a music venue a typical romantic engagement? He certainly had no such intentions and wondered if he had made an error in judgment. Certainly Cadet Uhura would not think there was any more meaning to the evening? 

When the cadet came back to her seat, she offered him a bottle of water. 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem.” 

The second and third ka’athyra scores were impeccable and fully justified the standing ovation at the end of the concert. 

“That was amazing! I’ve never heard that sound before, and she played  _ so _ beautifully.” Spock noted the woman’s vocal admiration as they passed through the main hall. Her facial features were evidently pleased and seeing it was akin to receiving a low dose of sedative. It was a pleasant, calming sensation.

“There is no equivalent stringed instrument here on Earth that can produce the same sound as the ka’athyra.”

“ _ Tobeg nash-veh,  _ _ S'chn T'gai Spock. _ ” 

Nyota lingered when Commander Spock stopped on his tracks and bowed his head at the Vulcan speaker leading his group of four. 

“ _ Nash-veh pudor-tor tor gla-tor du, k'shatri shikh-tor. _ ” 

_ It is an honor to meet you, Foreign Secretary.  _

While her Vulkhansu hasn’t had much practice lately, she was pleased to be able to pick up the words quickly. 

“ _ Satau t'nash-veh res’pet tor etwel sutra. _ ” 

_ Please send my respect to our people.  _

He spoke it beautifully. It was one of her guilty pleasures back when she was still under his Advanced Phonology class. She loved listening to his Vulkhansu with all its crisp Ks and distinct SHs. 

Realizing that she was eavesdropping, she took a few steps away from the group. Her movement caught a moment of their attention but did not interrupt the flow of conversation. There was a table selling merchandise, and she pretended to browse instead. There was a digital poster album of the musician Ne’Veya which she curiously went through. It wasn’t as common to see Vulcan females as it was for males. She did not sport the full bangs the Commander often got teased for but rather had dark tresses that were tied back in a plait. 

When she glanced back at the group, she was stunned to find the very musician she had been admiring speaking with the Commander. It was difficult to assume familiarity among Vulcans but she wouldn’t be surprised if she and the Commander were acquainted. They looked to be along the same age range. The conversation was brief, a polite exchange, and soon enough the group departed. 

“Cadet Uhura. I did not expect you to wait.” 

Nyota blinked, taken aback. “I couldn’t have just left.” 

“The concert has concluded. I would have found it reasonable if you went straight back to the academy.” He gave her a glance that seemed to point out the obvious.

Nyota grinned at the logic behind it. “I guess humans just don’t like leaving without saying goodbye.” 

They walked in stride back to the shuttle stop. There was a bit of a crowd and they stood in line. 

“Commander, do you know her? Ne’Veya?”

The look on his face made her instantly regret asking.  _ Vulcans are known to value privacy and do not inquire after personal affairs.  _ This was taught at freshman level interspecie protocol courses. How could she have forgotten? 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Forget it.” 

The concert had broken down her guard so well that he seemed more like a friend rather than a professor.  _ But of course he’s not _ , she corrected. 

“It is no offense. Yes, she has been an acquaintance since my childhood. Our fathers are colleagues. We used to practice the ka’athyra together. I have not been in touch with her since I started at the Academy until today.”

She nodded, feeling hot to her ears. When they boarded the shuttle there were no seats left so they stood side by side. The calm she felt from the concert drained away and the old feeling of awkwardness crept back in. She noticed how her eyes only leveled with the base of his neck in the place of his collarbone so that she’d have to angle her face to see his eyes. 

Which she had no intention of doing. She didn’t have any business with his eyes. 

She was grateful that it was only a short ride back to the Academy grounds from where they got off to board a different shuttle. 

“I prefer to walk back to the faculty quarters.” The statement came rather abrupt. He had made two steps forward when he paused and turned back to her. Clearly as an afterthought, he added: “Goodbye, Cadet. Have a pleasant evening.” 

Nyota glanced at the time piece on the bus stop. She knew the shuttle was due in a minute. “Wait, Commander, can I get your account code? I saw the ticket price online. I’ll credit 200 to you.” 

He looked at her as if she had just spoken a foreign language. 

“It is of no matter.” 

“But, sir,  _ really, _ I would feel better if I paid for my seat tonight.” 

She would  _ feel _ better if she purchased the ticket? The essential quality of gifts is that it is free. Does this mean Cadet Uhura does not like gifts? Perhaps he ought to have crossed referenced the shortlist on thoughtful gestures before taking it into account. 

“If it would relieve you, then certainly. 00451-8880-120631.” 

“Got it.” She stood before him typing on PADD. She tapped on the credit transfer button with a smile and saw the Commander’s PADD light up with a soft  _ ping  _ in response. “Thank you for the invitation, Commander. The music was lovely.” 

He nodded and they parted ways. 

When Nyota entered her room, the first thing she noticed was the smell of _ male.  _ Gaila was stretched out on her bed, thankfully in a silk kimono rather than in the nude. She didn’t want to have  _ that _ conversation with the Orion ever again. Years of sharing a room with a specie that looked at sexual relations as casually as breathing made her an expert at gauging her friend’s sexual satisfaction. She pegged this one at a 3 on a scale of 10. 

“Was it good?”

“Meh. It was alright. He was young. Maybe I should pass up on first years.” 

Nyota wrinkled her nose. “ _ I didn’t ask _ .” 

“How come  _ you’re _ back early?” 

“What do you mean? The concert ended at 2200. It’s 2240.”

The Orion let out an exaggerated sigh. “Exactly. It’s definitely not a date. Otherwise you won’t be here this early.” 

Nyota felt her face flush and threw a pillow at her roommate. “Gaila, don’t even say that! It was _definitely_ _not_ a date!” 

“Okay, okay! Defensive much?”

Later when her roommate was sleeping, Nyota allowed her mind to drift back to the concert. It felt like ages since she’d been out, much less to a classical concert. Maybe that was why she enjoyed it so much. Music was a universal language and appreciation of it was common across all galaxies. There could be no misunderstanding as she and the Commander sat listening to the rise and fall of the melody. They spoke the same language of appreciation and understood each other perfectly. 


	5. A Deal Over Dumplings

He had spent the entire Sunday in deep meditation and by the time dawn had broken out that Monday morning, he was famished and settled for replicator food. 

Saturday evening had been perfectly satisfactory until the encounter with the Foreign Secretary and his party. It has been a considerable length of time since he had met a Vulcan who was well acquainted with his family. It was a brief conversation touching on recent news from home and his involvement with the NCC-1701. He had not been surprised to hear that the Secretary’s daughter T’Pring had been recently betrothed with a Vulcan male of much repute in the community. The elder certainly seemed eager to share with him that particular news.

T’Pring was talented and aesthetically pleasing. It was just a matter of time before she found another mate after their bond was severed four years ago while he was a junior in the Academy. They had cited that their geographical distance and diverging paths would only result in mutual dissatisfaction. Their elders had deemed it an acceptable reason to sever their bond of seventeen years. Their fathers, however, had not been in agreement. 

His reunion with Ne’Veya, on the other hand, elicited nostalgia. She was what his mother called _his friend_. While they had lost contact through their adolescence, he admired her skill and thriving career as a musician. 

Then there was the discovery that Cadet Uhura had not left as he had assumed but had waited for him to conclude his meeting. She explained it most illogically: _I guess humans just don’t like leaving without saying goodbye._

He knew that fact from years of living among humans. It was considered rude not to make one’s exit known to one’s companions--something he also did not comprehend. If one no longer has anything to add to the conversation, then clearly the logical step would be to leave. It was also in the way the cadet said it--with a smile. He did not favor being taken as an amusement, but for the cadet he was somehow willing to make an exception.

He also appreciated her waiting for him if only so it could extend their time together. He reasoned it was because it was fascinating to note the subtle changes in her demeanor. On the bus ride back to the Academy she was silent and on guard, a contrast to when she had been praising the performance with exuberant hand gestures and lively eyes. It brought to his mind a statement made by one of Earth’s most renowned scientists Stephen Hawking from centuries ago before the first contact. When asked what mystery he found most intriguing, the scientist answered: women.

Spock sensed that he was beginning to understand his meaning.

At 0755 hours, he strode into the faculty lounge where a small congregation of fellow faculty normally held speculative discussions about their students. He stopped en route to his office when his PADD _pinged._ A message from Cadet Uhura.

_Sir, Cadet Cho from AP is requesting for a personal academic consultation with you, specifically. I saw your calendar and took the liberty of scheduling her tomorrow, Tuesday, at 1700hours. Please confirm if this works with you._

He sent her a one-worded reply of affirmative. The decrease in his Communications students requesting for after class consultation was note-worthy and was indicative of his aide’s effectiveness in the job. 

“Commander Spock!” 

He looked up and saw Commander Raffaelo Berruti waving at him. The man was in his early 40s handling mostly command track courses. Spock was not partial to being in his company but could not very well ignore him either. 

“Commander Berruti, Commander Goldberg, Lieutenant Cruise and Dr. Sangha,” he greeted. 

“Coffee?” 

“Spock doesn’t drink coffee, Raff,” Angela Goldberg reminded. She smiled at Spock and nudged in the direction of the pantry. “I just brewed black tea. Feel free to grab a cup.” 

Spock nodded. “Thank you, Commander.” 

While in the pantry, he heard their conversation resume on the topic of an unknown female Cadet’s romantic liaison with another male Cadet by the name of Kirk. The Vulcan considered which line he’ll use to extract himself from this pointless social obligation. When he emerged with his beverage, the group was gabbing about Dr. Sangha’s recent engagement to a former student, one Dr. Reshan Gupta.

“Naveen, you know I’m a fan of you and Resh but just between us,” Goldberg whispered mischievously, “when did you two _really_ hook up?”

Based on the context of their conversation, Spock deducted that hook up was yet another euphemism for intimate physical relations. 

The doctor looked sheepish but did not avoid the question. “It was one time while she was still in graduate studies, but I swear it was just _one_ time. And she wasn’t my student but my colleague’s. But after that, we kept our hands off each other until she submitted her thesis.”

“I heard the simulation rooms are particularly popular among the kids when they want to get a little frisky. The Guidance and Counselling department got _six_ different cases last term.” 

“In my time, it was the locker rooms on the sparring grounds. Those were the good days,” sighed Berruti as he scratched the stubble on his cheek. “Hey, Angela, how’s Joe doing? He homeschools your triplets right?” 

“Well, he’s still alive.” They all laugh while Spock sipped on his tea. 

“How’s your TA, Commander?” The question was directed at him by Lieutenant Baron “Barry” Cruise, a particularly talented engineer specializing in warp technologies.

“Heard you got Cadet Uhura. Lucky bastard,” Berruti chuckled. “I heard the comms department is pissed that you got their star student.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond. It was an old issue that he was considered and technically was under the sciences department. He was only offered Advanced Phonology because he had exceptionally sharp hearing and was well versed in Vulkhansu, Federation Standard, Romulan, and Andorian.

“That girl is going places. I heard Commander Ramirez talk about how Cadet Uhura is proficient in several humanoid languages and is conversational in half of all Terran languages,” added Goldberg. “For a cadet, that certainly is impressive. And I have her in my diplomacy class this year. She’s certainly as they say.”

“I can likewise support that observation,” Spock said just as Berruti mumbled something about the cadet having _one hell of a tongue_ that caused Lieutenant Cruise to choke on his coffee. Both men were smirking while Commander Goldberg didn’t look so pleased. 

“Doesn’t it get a little _warm_ in your office Spock? You two seemed cramped in there.” 

“The room is adequate,” he clipped. He can sense that the conversation had already been turned against him; yet their insinuations remained unclear. “Excuse me, there is something I need to attend to. Good day, Commanders, Lieutenant, Doctor.”

He heard the feminine clicking of heels behind him and realized that Commander Goldberg had also left the party. “Forget about them, Spock. Sometimes, I wonder if they realize that they were due to mature 20 years ago.” 

“Commander, may I inquire the meaning to Commander Berruti’s statement that Cadet Uhura has _one hell of a tongue_? I gather it is an inappropriate term judging from your response.”

The woman’s cheeks blushed. She hovered just outside her office door. “They were insinuating that she must be a good kisser. It’s a crude joke. Anyway, don’t let Raff get under your skin. Sometimes he forgets his place. It really puts us on our toes when the youngest Commander in Starfleet history is practically a fresh graduate.”

“You are mistaken. I graduated 2.7 years ago.” 

Goldberg chuckled. “Your Bridge Officer’s Test was done in record speed and with flying colors. Just press on with what you’re doing, Spock. You’re on a good career trajectory.” 

He dipped his head in confirmation and entered the sanctuary of his own office. It was intriguing that kissing can be classified along a spectrum between excellent and poor. He was not experienced on the subject, having had only one unfortunate experience during his junior year when an intoxicated female cadet smashed her lips against his in a classmate’s birthday celebration. The “kiss” had been such an unpleasant experience that he took care that the occurrence would not be repeated.

What are the characteristics of a good kiss? 

His comm vibrated before he had much time to ponder on the matter. Seeing the name of his caller, Spock transferred the call to his computer screen. 

“Hello, mother. I was not expecting you.” 

“That’s why I called you this early. I figured we can chat for a bit before you start work.” 

He could see that she was at the dining area. Behind her, on the wall, hung frames of him in his infancy and childhood, a testament to a human mother’s sentimentality. Spock raised a brow when the woman fell silent. 

“Is father faring better?” 

His father, it seemed, was not the point she wanted to discuss. “Oh, yes, your father is much better. Spock, darling, I heard that you saw the Foreign Secretary during Ne’Veya’s concert.” 

“Your source is correct.”

When she did not respond after three full seconds, Spock began to suspect that his mother had the intention of _meddling_. Amanda was often less direct when it came to matters she considered were his private affairs.

“I also heard that you were _not_ alone.” 

He could see the corner of her lips quiver. It was plain that she was attempting to contain her emotions. “I believe this qualifies as gossip, Mother. May I inquire who the source of this information is?”

Amanda gave him a pointed look. “It’s Tallera, the secretary’s wife who _obviously_ heard about it from the secretary himself. She said--or rather _he said—_ that you were with a female. A _human_ female.”

He wondered how much time had elapsed between the discovery of the news to the time of her call. “Affirmative.” 

Amanda Grayson, esteemed wife of the Vulcan ambassador to Earth, squealed. “Was it a _date_?” 

He did not even blink. “Negative. I simply invited my teaching aide to the event as I had recently discovered her fondness for stringed instruments and had a ticket that would otherwise be wasted. It was logical.” 

“I didn’t know you have a TA.”

“I didn’t think it was relevant to our conversation,” he countered. “It is a matter of regulation. I have exceeded 30 units this term and was therefore required to take up a teaching aide. I offered the post to a former student Cadet Uhura who is now a junior specializing in Xenolinguistics. Have I satisfied your curiosity, Mother?” 

His mother looked visibly disappointed as she sipped on her tea. “Well, I would have preferred if it had been a date. Do you know that T’Pring is engaged?” 

“It was something the Secretary had mentioned at our meeting.” 

“ _More like rubbed your nose in it_ ,” Amanda muttered petulantly. The woman stared down at the mug enveloped in her hands. Her mother had delicate features and was, to use human vernacular, an _open book_. It may be easy to classify her emotions, but it didn’t mean that he understood it. “Spock, following the Vulcan custom, as your mother, I feel like I am being remiss in not being able to secure another acceptable betrothed for you.” 

The Vulcan frowned. “Your feeling is baseless as I have no wish to be engaged and prefer that you do not interfere.” 

Another three full seconds passed when she followed up with a: “You must know that I don’t care what they think, right? If you choose a _human_ . . . o-or another specie to be your mate, I will support you. A-a-and if your _heart_ tells you that it doesn’t have to be _specifically_ female--”

“Thank you, Mother,” Spock said abruptly. “I have many matters to resolve today, and I’d prefer to start as soon as possible.” 

“ _Alright._ I love you.” 

He pressed his fingers into the customary salute. 

His mother’s affectionate smile was the last thing on the screen before it went blank. Mechanically, he opened his email and previous search windows to pick up on the tasks at hand. 

Gossip, it would seem, was not merely a human compulsion. 

* * *

The campus library may be one of her favored places on school grounds, but nothing could beat the feeling of sanctuary that she felt whenever she stepped into the San Francisco Public Library in Bernal Heights. It was considerably far from the academy, but their library was one of the last one still standing that boasted pre-2100 _heritage_ architecture. 

The original structure had been a small space but it was torn down to accommodate the community’s growing population. A taller four storey structure now stood in its place with murals still decorated the facade of the building as it did centuries ago. The artwork was changed every year to feature a new artist in the community. 

She loved it. It was the place she’d go to every time she wanted to be alone. Nyota sat on a communal table, a daunting stack of PADDs--one for each of her classes in Tactics, Galactic diplomacy, Federation Law II, Starship Engineering: Life Support Systems (elective), Advanced Romulan and Subspace Mechanics. 

On her computer screen were articles detailing information on her current topic of interest completely outside her academic undertaking: Vulcans. There were a lot of things that she knew already from previous research such as the arid climate of the planet and geography as well as the brief history of the species. She knew that standard way of greeting from her interspecie protocol classes but not of their cultural traditions. She knew that Vulcans gave special deference to elders that affected the syntax of the language but was not so clear on the subjects of community structures and social norms.

She found an intriguing study on Vulcan physiology and discovered that their hearts didn’t beat within their chest but rather in the approximate place where her liver would be. It was also a fact that Vulcan infants were not born logical. The Vulcan equivalent of the amygdala is, in fact, reportedly larger in Vulcan infants but the section eventually shrinks with age. Furthermore, a curious alteration in myelination, particularly the _thinning_ of the nerve fiber coatings, are observable in most Vulcan adolescents as logic becomes the foundation of speech and thought. The level of alteration varies, and it is still a matter of study which of nature vs nurture was the primary cause. Another article revealed that Vulcans feel the same spectrum of emotions as humans from fear to loneliness. 

Bottom line was: Commander Spock _can_ feel.

Nyota opened a new search window and, after a casual scan of her surroundings, typed: _Commander Spock Starfleet_. Scrolling through her search results would leave any person impressed. She clicked on an article published on the official Starfleet webpage. 

_Born in Shi Kahr. Enrolled in Starfleet Academy in the year 2252. Also the only known Vulcan as of writing to have refused his acceptance at the prestigious Vulcan Science Academy. Second son of Vulcan ambassador to Earth Sarek._

Nyota blinked. Even she knew who _the_ Sarek was. The Vulcan ambassador was practically legend and was often cited in diplomacy classes. That Commander Spock could have such a renowned pedigree was surprising. Being the son of an ambassador had to be a big deal, right? A series of achievements and commendations was itemized in bullet points which she could only scan quickly to save time. While most people of his rank took years before reaching the level of Commander, it took him just two years after he developed and successfully tested an algorithm that increased the accuracy of stellar collision probabilities from 70% to 81% and completed the Bridge Officer Test in a record of 1.14 hours. 

She clicked her screen to sleep mode while she ruminated on the enigma that was Commander Spock. His profile looked like the resume of her dreams, complete with a recommendation from Starfleet’s Commander in Chief. The advantage of being his teaching aide suddenly became crystal clear. It was as she had thought: simple association with the Commander could boost her profile. And that was _before_ she found out about his mile-long credentials. 

Nyota took a detour to Chinatown on her way back to campus. Sulu had casually mentioned a Japanese restaurant that served some really good sushi that she wanted to check out after dropping by her usual Asian grocer.

The grocer was a small hole in the wall sandwiched in between residential apartments two blocks from her stop. She headed straight for the chiller and grabbed some packs of her favorite dessert tofu. Her preferred flavor was almond while Gaila preferred coconut.

“Maybe you like jade plant?” 

An old Chinese lady holding some canned peaches pointed at the table near the exit that held at least ten pots of little succulents. “10 credits only. Give you more luck and money.” 

She didn’t particularly believe in lucky charms, but the plant did look cute and it was just the right kind of whim that appealed to her impulsive side. 

“Yeah, why not. Thanks.” She grabbed it on her way out. 

On the street, she eagerly ripped off the seal on her tofu and took a generous bite. The sweetness was an instant mood booster. As Nyota rounded the block, a familiar figure caught her eye on the other side of the road. Commander Spock was dressed in faculty uniform even on an excursion to the city. His black hair didn’t particularly stand out in this side of the city, but his pointed ears did. As always, he walked in brisk, purposeful strides. 

Their paths would not necessarily meet, so she contemplated whether to say hello or not. At the end of a brief mental debate, she figured the more she met and engaged with him the faster she could acclimatize to his presence and stop feeling so ridiculously _ruffled_ every time she saw him. 

“Commander Spock!”

“Cadet Uhura,” he greeted back once she had safely crossed the street. He noted the bag slung on the crook of her elbows and the food item she was in the process of eating _while_ walking. It looked like creamy gelatin. 

“It’s dessert tofu,” she explained with a smile. To exhibit its delectable quality, she spooned another serving into her mouth. “Would you want some, sir? It’s vegan. I just bought it from the grocer along with a random _plant._ ” 

_Stop rambling,_ she mentally chided.

“You came all this way for the purpose of purchasing sweetened soy products?” 

“No, I had just come from a library further south and thought I’d reward my efforts with a treat.” She wondered if he thought it illogical. 

“It is wise to employ a strategy of self-motivation,” he finally said. “And since your efforts are directly reflected in your test scores, I would conclude that it remains effective.” 

“How about you, sir, what brings you to this side of town?”

“I am enroute to a restaurant that serves a spicy aubergine and tofu dish that I have taken a liking to.” 

It was said with his usual bluntness, but what she found so jarring was that he seemed so _normal,_ just another guy casually dining out. It was difficult to reconcile this with the larger-than-life Commander whose glowing achievements she had read only minutes ago. He was only four human years older than herself. 

“Are you on your way back to the academy, Cadet?” His question snapped her attention back to the conversation. 

“Oh, no, I’m heading to this Japanese place for some take out sushi. It’s just at the next block, actually.” 

“I suggest we walk together for the remainder of your journey.” 

He slowed down his pace for her. “How are you faring with your course load this term?” 

His sudden interest in her welfare surprised her. “It’s tougher than sophomore year, that’s for sure. But it’s nothing I can’t handle, sir.” 

“Xenolinguistics students are required to take up two Advanced language courses in their junior year.” 

“I’m taking Romulan now and might opt to study Cardassian for the second semester.” 

He raised a brow. “I believe that is an unconventional choice.” 

It was, notably because both languages were from planets that were not exactly on friendly terms with the Federation. She shrugged. “I guess I’d rather know if I’m being threatened to be tortured and maimed for life rather than if I’m being offered coffee or tea.”

She saw the corners of his mouth inch upward. It hardly classified as a smile, but she was pleased that he caught on to her humor. 

“The skill will be an asset on any starship.” 

Nyota felt warmth seep through her body at what she felt like to be praise. 

“Right. This should be where the restaurant is,” she announced. They both observed the shop which was dark and empty. An old fashioned paper schedule was tacked on the door. _Mondays - Closed._

She was an _idiot_. Embarrassment crept all the way to the roots of her hair. 

“I should’ve checked if it was open,” she mumbled. 

“An oversight.” 

She was about to mutter an excuse to avoid suffocating him with her awkwardness when the Commander calmly said: “An alternative is available to you, Cadet. I am certain the restaurant of my choice is open to accommodate you if you do not mind adapting to a different cuisine.”

Did he just invite her to have dinner with him? But he said it so _logically_ she felt it would be _illogical_ of her to refuse. And it’s true, she didn’t mind having some steamed vegetable dumplings. Maybe he meant that they merely dine at the same restaurant. _It’s not like this was a pre-arranged meeting._

“Alright then.” 

They resumed walking in stride and naturally picked up on their discussion of their prospective work loads. He was, she learned, working with the engineering team responsible for outfitting the Enterprise’s operating systems. Some of the algorithms were to be done from scratch to address the improvements recommended by several Starfleet Captains. 

The Commander’s choice _Lucky Chan_ was a humble family run restaurant by a father-son duo she assumed to be the Chans. 

“Table for two?”

She watched as the Commander nodded and the waiter handed them their menu PADDs and simply pointed to a table by the window. He waited for her to pick her side of the table and seated himself without further thought on the opposite side. Nyota considered it a chivalrous gesture.

“I ordered some vegetarian dumplings,” she announced after entering her choice on the PADD and submitting the order. Chinese cuisine was often eaten communally, but she didn’t know if the Commander intended their meals to be shared. Erring on the side of caution, she ordered a medium. 

“An acceptable choice.” 

They were both served tea and were silent. 

Did he feel as weird as she did? 

“Cadet Uhura, may I pose a query of a more personal nature?” 

She didn’t know what to make of her quickened pulse and just nodded. 

“Why did paying for the concert ticket bring you relief? I had no intention of exacting a monetary payment from you when I invited you to the event.” 

Nyota looked at the small traces of leaf that went into her cup and considered her answer carefully. “Uhm. Well, because it would hint at a different meaning if I did not pay for it, sir. It would almost seem like a-a date, a romantic rendezvous.” After a brief pause she rushed to add: “I _know_ that wasn’t your intention--that’s why I felt comfortable to pay. It clarifies the situation, sir.” 

He seemed to consider her answer for a few seconds before probing again into the subject. “I apologize if I had placed you in an uncomfortable position. My logic can often run counter to human norms without my meaning to. Does the venue and nature of the invitation factor in for it to be classified as an activity of romantic intent?” 

Nyota could swear that Commander Spock had never dated before. He may have graduated from the academy with the highest honors, but she could see it in his eyes that he was truly confused over something as basic as her footing her share of the bill. It melted her nerves. He didn’t strike her as a far superior being at the moment. 

“When people ask another out for a date--as in with romantic intentions--it can be either over a shared meal: dinner, coffee and/or an activity that can be done together. Factors that would make it a date:” She held out a finger to count. “Are they both single? Is the time used to get to know each other better? Traditionally, the male would shoulder the bill at least for the _first date,_ but our culture has evolved so much since then that, at present, it’s simply a flexible arrangement. Girls can pay their share or even pay for both parties without losing the romantic aspect of the activity.” 

“My invitation was intended as a gift as I happened to have a ticket to spare. I understand that giving gifts is perceived as a gesture of thoughtfulness and kindness.” He was interrupted by the arrival of the steamed dumplings. “I have observed from your posture and speech patterns that you are often uncomfortable in my presence. It had been my intention, as was recommended to me, to show kindness to help put you at ease.” 

Whatever discomfort she had then drained away at his admission. His honesty was disarming and further humbled him before her. Nyota smiled, albeit a little sheepishly. It was such a sweet thing to say. 

“Thank you for considering my comforts, sir. I’m just often nervous because while I know how to be your student, I don’t know how to work with you. The last thing I want to be is an inconvenience.” 

It was refreshing to be equally candid. The Commander’s features did not reveal his thoughts, but she suspected that they were coming to a breakthrough after weeks of tip-toeing around each other. 

“I encourage you to communicate your concerns with me in the future, Cadet. You may act with ease in my presence. I will not take offense should you make an error, and I will make an effort to be more mindful of instructing you should I find it necessary.” 

Nyota nodded. “That sounds like a reasonable arrangement.” She mechanically grabbed her chopsticks and placed a dumpling on his dish before serving herself. At that, Spock’s right brow lifted.

“It is logical. Given that we are not well versed with the nuances of each other’s culture, an arrangement that guarantees a safe space for continued learning and correcting is ideal to achieve improvement.” Spock picked up the dumpling with his chopsticks. “Take for example your placement of this food item on my plate. I perceive that you mean it as a sign of thoughtfulness and courtesy. However, in Vulcan culture such an act is only limited to bonded mates.” 

His statement made her blood run cold but when she saw yet again the upward quirk in his lips, it suddenly seemed so funny. 

“Do you mean to say I just proposed to you?” 

“No, it would merely hint that you are a loose woman with open favors.” 

It wasn’t even a joke, but she caught on to the lightness in his tone and couldn’t contain her laughter.

Their conversation ran over to other aspects of Vulcan culture, a supplement to her earlier research. The Commander answered readily and countered with questions of his own regarding human social norms. When their dishes were cleared away, Nyota credited her share of the bill to the Commander’s account. They parted at the same shuttle stop close to the campus gate where she insisted he take home one of her dessert tofu. 

In a strange coincidence, he encountered Dr. Sangha with a woman (whom he presumed to be his wife based on the morning’s conversation) at the main hall. The former held the turbolift open for him.

“Thank you, doctor.” 

“I didn’t know you have a sweet tooth, Commander Spock,” the scientist remarked with an easy smile. 

“I do not have a preference for sweet food items, but this item came recommended.” 

The wife, a most striking looking woman, smiled at him before the couple got off at their floor. He suddenly remembered the initial circumstance of their relationship and it’s flirtation with fraternization. In his quarters, Spock ambled through his routine. He commanded his windows to darken by 50% to look almost opaque, washed up, and slipped into his loungewear. 

Once refreshed, he returned attention to the sweetened soy product sitting on his dining table and procured a spoon for it. The content revealed white tofu moist with fruit syrup. He had thought it would be gelatinous but the tofu easily yielded to the spoon and he scooped a small quantity into his mouth just as Cadet Uhura had done while they walked. 

After finding the initial sample favorable, Spock consumed the pack in six bites. The texture was pleasing and the sweetness was not as overwhelming as other sweetened food items humans were inclined to consume. The flavor was delicious, and he concluded that he took pleasure in it. 

Far more than he had anticipated.

* * *

Note: Kirk won’t play a role in this story, but we will get a lot more of Sulu! Thanks to everyone who hit the kudos button and left a comment. Chapter six will be out soon! 


	6. Bridge Meeting

Nyota spent Labor day holidays in the library. In the previous years, Gaila would have protested over the dullness, but, with the heavier demands of junior year, she too was swamped with her medical courses. The following weeks didn’t improve their situation. 

“If I have to look at another academic paper regarding an Andorian’s limbic system again, I’m going to  _ scream _ ,” the Orion hissed before lowering her face into her forearms in defeat.

“Take a break and study their reproductive system instead,” Nyota teased. What she meant as a joke was taken as sage advice by her roommate. 

The toughest subjects she needed to work on were Federation Law and Subspace mechanics. Her Romulan was refined by a once a week dialogue with Commander Spock in the language. What started as a linguistics clarification ended with a generous offer from him to assist her in the vocabulary list she needed to commit to memory in order to advance the course. Nyota was confident she’d do well in the class. 

Their relationship had improved dramatically since their discussion in the restaurant. She still addressed him formally, but she was also able to open up topics of conversations as she would to a friend. Or a mentor. She had become better in reading the subtle cues in his movements, and she could visually identify, to some degree of accuracy, whether he was uncomfortable or if he was pleased. She was even catching on to his dry humor which was probably the most surprising discovery of all. 

A message notification on her PADD made her shoot up from her chair. “Crap! I forgot I have another consultation with a sophomore under Commander Spock’s phonology class,” she muttered, shoving her PADDs into her bag. 

“Someone’s  _ popuuuulaaaaaar _ ,” Gaila sang

“No,  _ someone _ thought it’ll be a good idea to become a TA.” 

“Didn’t you just have  _ five _ consultations last week?”

‘Yeah. I think maybe it’s because midterms start in two week. They’re losing it. I’ll see you later.”

“Hahah. Wait till it’s  _ after _ midterms. They’d be calling you during lunch time .too--Hey!” 

Nyota flipped around with an impatient  _ what  _ on her face.

“Some guys I know are having some drinks tonight. Wanna go and check it out? I can charm some of them to buy us drinks!”

“Uhh  _ sure _ ,” she responded distractedly as her PADD vibrated with another message. 

Nyota jogged to the faculty building and was pleased that there was still a vacant meeting room for their perusal. She logged it under Commander Spock’s name and class, stating her purpose of discussion with the student. Almost as soon as she completed the reservation process, the student, a Cadet Idris Santiago, strolled right in. He waved at her. 

She let him in the small meeting room on the same floor as Commander Spock’s office and left the door open. 

“Right. Cadet Santiago,” she looked up from her PADD having just accessed his student file. Her gaze met his hazel eyes and easy grin. “You are taking communications technologies. Are you aiming for an off planet posting?”

“Yeah, maybe,” the cadet gave a casual shrug. “Are you?” 

Nyota ignored his question. “If you are then this course could become relevant to your career. Your quizzes aren’t terrible so it’s too soon to say that you’re not doing well. You mentioned in your message that you’re having difficulty in differentiating between the Vulcan and Romulan phonemes  _ ah _ and  _ a _ .” She returned her gaze back to the cadet. “It’s a common confusion. Did you get to review the supplementary audio file I sent?” 

“Uhmm, yeah, but I’m not sure I understand,” Santiago drawled on. “Would you mind giving a demonstration?” 

“Let’s take the standard Vulcan greeting: N _ ah _ 'sh _ ah _ ya, n _ ah _ sh-v _ eh _ Nyota Uhura. Their  _ a _ vowel for  _ na’sha  _ are elongated as an  _ ah  _ while the ending vowel takes a more clipped tone. But that’s for the  _ a.  _ The  _ e _ is the opposite of that. It ends as an  _ eh _ while e’s in the starting to middle parts are brisk. However, these phonemes sound slightly different in Romulan--”

She saw Cadet Santiago put both elbows on the table and leaned forward. He was looking at her  _ lips _ . 

“Hey, look, I was wondering . . . maybe we can come up with some sort of weekly arrangement for this?” He flashed her a smile that told her he knew he was sex on legs and had enough experience working it to his favor. “I think I really need all the help I can get.” 

“Right. I think we’re done here,” Nyota snapped with a tight smile. “I suggest you go through the audio files and take it up with the Commander.” 

“Don’t shut me out. I can really make it worth your time, Uhura.” 

She leveled him a hard stare at first, but then she softened and smiled. “And  _ how _ are you going to make it worth my while?” 

The Cadet had the nerve to lean even closer. His elbows rested halfway on the table. 

“Let’s just say I have a certain talent for bedroom sport.” 

She let the silence hover for a few seconds before countering his innuendo. “You know what turns me on?” 

When his fingers stroked the side of her wrist, she grabbed onto his hand and, in one quick, precise movement, pinned the side of his face down on the table with her elbow. The defense drills from hand to hand combat training were practically ingrained as muscle memory.

“What the--are you  _ crazy _ ?!” 

“ _Competence,”_ she spat out, “ _And_ _good old fashioned manners_. _That’s_ what turns me on and both are clearly beyond you. You even dare to call _me_ crazy?!” She bored down her weight against his cheek. “I don’t give a shit if you fail this class, asshole, but I will definitely bring this up as a sexual harassment case.” 

She released him and made a move for the exit when she came into eye contact with a stoic Commander Spock. 

“Sir,” she greeted, slightly out of breath. When the Vulcan stood aside to let her pass, she strode unapologetically past him without a word.    
  


He found her in his office moments later sitting on top of her table. Her arms were crossed and her lips pursed, jaw clenched. 

Spock hesitated, unsure of how to handle her delicate state. “I apologize for that unfortunate event.” 

Logically speaking, he had nothing to apologize for as he was neither Cadet Santiago nor involved in the offense, but drawing from years of observation, apologizing was a form of sympathy. 

He had received a notification as he was concluding his Navigational Mathematics class that his aide had reserved a consultation room on his behalf. As he was due to return to his office, it had seemed convenient to check in on her progress with the student. He had been in the hallway when he heard Cadet Santiago’s proposition that made him stop on his tracks. He judged the student’s tone to be inappropriate; yet as he was not confident in his assessment, he deferred to his aide’s prudence in handling the situation. 

The term  _ bedroom sport _ that the male Cadet mentioned made it clear to him exactly what the proposition was about. The unpleasant sensation that clenched in his abdomen surprised him as it was one that he associated with irritation. He would have entered the room had his aide not engaged the man with a cryptic comment of _ turning her on _ which only seemed to escalate the tension. He then understood that the statement was simply a quick witted strategy to lower down the man’s guard, after which Cadet Uhura employed an impressive combat maneuver. 

Now that he stood facing his aide, he wished to be able to read her thoughts. 

“It’s not your fault. I’m just  _ so mad  _ that guys like that still exist,” she ranted. “They’re so full of themselves that they probably think they’re doing the female population a favor by being such a jerk.” 

“You handled the situation very well. I can support your report if necessary.”

A small smile formed on her lips. “You’re okay that I manhandled a student?”

The Vulcan cocked his head. “I believe, in your vernacular, it can be said that  _ he had it coming _ .”

Her smile widened such that it reached the corner of her eyes. “What did you say to him?”

Spock set water to boil in the kettle. “I simply said that I would defer to your judgment and that he should be grateful for such leniency. If it had been up to me, he would expect a prolonged period of weekend detentions and community services at Alcatraz penitentiary. 

Would you like a cup of tea?” 

His mother used to offer him a hot beverage whenever he was upset. Back when he was a child struggling to reign in his emotions. Thereafter, he associated tea with a certain touch of human comfort.

“Yes, please. And thank you. Is this the Vulcan spiced tea you mentioned you’d let me try?” 

“Affirmative.” 

It was the first time his aide lingered in his office without putting forth work in her station. Instead, she had taken up an hour of unintended leisure from his schedule which was filled with a fascinating discussion on a variety of topics from feminist philosophies to recent Federation news: the exciting discovery of more ancient Orion scripts excavation sites on a Class M planet that used to be vibrant trading post centuries back. The Cadet was well versed in current happenings and she regarded topics that were not her area of expertise with interest. He had talked about the developments in warp technologies and the Cadet posed no hesitancy to ask for clarifications. It was, he remembered, the very quality that he admired in her while she had been his student. 

A knock on his door dispersed his thoughts. “Spock?” 

“Captain Pike,” he acknowledged, standing up in salutation as the man strolled in. He was certain  _ this _ meeting was also not on his calendar. And had the man come in twelve minutes earlier, he would have encountered Cadet Uhura in his office. 

“Sorry to drop by unannounced. I was on campus and thought I’d drop by. I’ve gone through the applications for the Bridge crew. and I want your opinion on my shortlist. Care to join me for a drink?” 

The Vulcan stole a glance at the time on his computer and frowned. “Sir, it is only 1624 hours.”

That didn’t seem to faze the Captain who only shrugged. “It’s happy hour.” 

“I am certain the absence of discounts on alcoholic beverages would not be a detriment to your financial security, Captain.” 

Pike laughed and took three steps towards his aide’s table. It was no longer as bare as it was on her first week on the job. Three stylus pens in a distinct shade of lavender, bright yellow, and neon orange lay on her desk beside a common tourist souvenir mug with the colorful design of the United States of Africa. On the corner of the table was a thriving Jade plant with its pot adorned with a red bow. He had been informed that the plant (scientific name  crassula ovata) was supposed to bring them luck and financial success and that it added  _ a nice pop of color  _ to his office. 

“Nice plant,” the captain complimented in a tone that indicated both amusement and curiosity.

“It is my aide’s,” he clarified. 

The man nodded with a pleased smirk. “Now  _ that’s _ an update I want to hear about. How about dinner then?  _ Surely _ you have to eat something.” 

Technically he was not biologically required to consume food until tomorrow. “Dinner is acceptable. Where will be our point of meeting?”

“Let’s do Japanese. Zensho. 2000. Just tell them my name.”

“Affirmative, Captain.”

After Pike departed from his office, Spock took a deep inhale and mentally calculated how to compensate for the 1. _ 22 _ hours of delay before his appointment with the Captain. 

* * *

Nyota took out her frustration through physical exercise. If she was going to be mad, she’d rather channel the energy towards something positive while she was at it. The consultation with Cadet Santiago lingered in her mind. It was her bad habit of needing to overthink everything. Did she look like an easy woman? She replayed her other consultations and combed it for any sign of romantic or lecherous interest as she took on her last 200m sprint on the treadmill.

Her pulse pounded in her ear. And worse: she had engaged Santiago by asking what he thought turned her on. Did Commander Spock hear her say that? The notion that he must have boosted her adrenalin and energized her legs to complete her run program. Nothing else could be a more productive use for mortification. 

Yet the Commander gave no impression other than support after the incident. It was even the right kind of support--the kind that empowered her. His brew of the famed Vulcan spiced tea was delicious and soothed her instantly. For someone supposedly incompatible with human society, he knew how to provide comfort. 

“At least now I know you don’t solely target me to lash out.” 

She managed a  _ hey _ and a grin as her chest heaved for air. 

She sat on a medicine ball and eyed the cadet. He looked and smelled freshly showered with his black damp hair clubbed back while she was still bathed in sweat--which brought back to her mind that Gaila would come calling soon if she didn’t return to their dorm. 

“I should have you as an emergency contact in case I need a sparring partner,” she joked. “Wait, how many combat sports do you take anyway?” 

“Just Kali and Fencing. Sometimes I’d practice hand to hand drills so I don’t get too rusty.” 

“Careful. You might end up wearing a red shirt under security.” 

“Haha.” Sulu held out a hand to help her up. 

“Hey, my roommate and I are heading out tonight. Want to join us? You can bring some friends along too.” Nyota towelled herself off and checked the time. 2041.

“Where will you girls be?”

“Gaila didn’t say. I’ll text you when I find out though.” 

“Sure. I’ll catch you later.” 

As expected, Gaila was dressed and in a hurry to leave by the time she arrived. She was wearing the white and gold dress that Nyota once argued looked impossible to fit into, which confirmed her theory that she would be sleeping alone tonight. The Orion practically pushed her into the shower and offered to select her outfit to help pick up the pace. 

Her roommate’s choice was a black bandeau to simply cover her breasts and a tight black leather skirt that ended mid thigh. She adjusted the look by donning a pale periwinkle blue camisole top which she tucked into the skirt, wanting to take advantage of the season before it turned too chilly for bare legs and shoulders. 

“Remember Hikaru Sulu?” Nyota glanced up at Gaila’s reflection in the mirror as she applied some make up. “I invited him tonight. Where are we going?” 

“Dave said they’ll be at Molotov, right up by pier 1. Yeah, I’m cool with Sulu. He’s cute even if I know he’ll  _ never _ fall for my charms--now will you  _ please _ hurry up? I am in  _ dire _ need of some vodka in my bloodstream.” 

She applied finishing strokes of mascara on her lashes and inspected her red lips before transferring her key cards into her black purse. “Yeah yeah, I’m ready.” 

Gaila squealed as they walked down to the nearest shuttle stop and linked her elbow with hers. Nyota laughed, feeling suddenly confident and great in her outfit. The night was young and they were  _ so _ ready for a good time. 

The waterfront evening scene hosted a series of dive bars and clubs that was frequented by both off-planet and in-planet tourists, students and the mass of white collared workers who had only begun climbing the corporate ladder. The general atmosphere was pulsing with life as long legged female groups strolled along the bay in a chatterous mood and batches of cheerfully inebriated youths hung outside the bars and clubs. In the backdrop of these evening activities stood the old Oakland Bridge, illuminated with bright lights and adding a touch of old world beauty to the modern cityscape. 

Molotov was a small dive bar sandwiched between a club and another bigger speakeasy. Nyota bumped into the shoulder of a tall Trill female and squeezed in between the backs of two Andorians as she and Gaila slithered themselves inside.

“Dave’s got a table somewhere in here.” 

It was dim and impossibly crowded inside, the room bathed in the reddish glow of the neon sign behind the bar that spelled out Molotov in a messy scrawl. The tables and chairs were welded from repurposed metal. 

“There they are! Daaaave!”

Nyota stared as her friend greeted a tall guy with an ecstatic hug. The group was a mix of nationalities. She easily spotted a few familiar faces, namely a Trill Cadet named Jolene who was in her batch and a Bolian male nicknamed Alex because his real name was too long and hard to remember. Under the red glow, Alex’s blue skin looked a pretty shade of purple. 

“Dave, this is my roommate, Uhura.” 

Gaila had already latched onto the man’s arm. “And this is Dave Bautista. A senior med Cadet.” 

Dave shook her hand properly as if they were still in uniform. It was a good first impression. “Good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Gaila. Something about you being a walking dictionary genius.” 

Nyota laughed. “Or something like that. Thanks for letting us into your group.” She peered at the bar and saw an opening. “I’ll go grab a drink first.” 

“Try the molotov house special. It packs a solid punch.” 

She ordered two of the signature drink and tapped her ID onto the payment scanner. As she waited, she felt someone’s strong arm brush against her shoulder. He was human, or at least she thought so at first glance, with skin that looked a shade darker than hers. He smelled particularly good: spicy with an undercurrent of floral that gave off a good musk.

“One for you and your boyfriend?” 

As a person who had listened to plenty of audio files, her ears found his voice deep and definitely alluring. “No, one for me and my  _ roommate _ ,” she replied. How long had it been since she last flirted? “I guess we sleep together, but not in  _ that _ way.” 

The man chuckled and looked at her. His eyes were light-colored and the idea that their room might not be slept in at all crossed her mind in a flash. 

“I’d offer to get you and your roommate a drink but since you beat me to it, can I get a name instead? I’m Derek.” 

She  _ almost _ gave him her first name but habit held her back. “It’s Uhura.” 

Her drinks arrived before another word could be exchanged. Nyota took both drinks and simply hinted with a flirty eye contact that he could join her. When she rejoined Gaila and Dave’s group, Derek was a few steps behind her. 

“Who’s your new friend?” Gaila asked with a giddy smile, accepting her drink.

“This is Derek,” Nyota introduced, looking back at the man who was holding a glass of whiskey. 

“Are you guys Starfleet crew?” 

“Cadets, actually. What gave us away?” asked Dave, clinking his glass with the guy. “Don’t tell me it’s the purple dude in the back. He’s actually blue.” 

Derek laughed and looked at Nyota. “I think it’s amazing. What do you study?” 

“Linguistics.” It was the answer she often gave to people who weren’t in Starfleet to save herself time trying to explain. She wasn’t particularly in the mood to demonstrate Romulan, Andorian and Vulcan. 

A mental image of Commander Spock pointing out her mispronunciation of the Romulan word  _ saith  _ (peace) entered her mind and she straightened her posture in a visceral response. She surveyed her surroundings and took a drink of the molotov. The alcohol content was a shock to her senses and she ended up coughing. “And you? What do you do, Derek?”

“I just started practicing corporation law, and I’ll be the first person to say that it’s not as interesting as linguistics.”

A  _ charmer _ . Nyota grinned and took another gulp of her drink. “My sister dreams of taking law. She just has a year of high school left.” 

“Are you the only one in your family with Starfleet?”

“Yeah. I got lucky with a scholarship and here I am.” 

A hand tapped her once on the shoulder. “Uhura.” 

“Sulu!” The molotov was as potent as Dave said because she didn’t even think twice to lean in for a friendly embrace. Derek nodded in a typical male gesture which Sulu returned. He tossed her a side glance, his raised brow seemingly congratulating her for an early score.

Gaila returned to her side with a tequila bottle and two shot glasses. “I told you I’d get someone to buy us drinks,” she whispered smugly, handing her and Derek a glass and pouring pale amber liquid into it. 

“Here’s to passing our midterms!” Gaila shouted, holding her glass in the air. The group gave a unanimous groan before clinking their glasses together. 

“Cheers,” Derek muttered into her ear, one hand palming her waist. 

Nyota rewarded him with a sultry smile. “Cheers.” 

* * *

Spock was pleased to know that the restaurant chosen by the captain was inside a five star hotel. Generally, establishments inside hotels had lower decibels that would prove more conducive for discussions. An Orion female graciously escorted him to the bar where Captain Pike sat, his hand lazily rotating a drink. 

“Captain,” he greeted. 

The man looked at his watch and grinned. “I was wondering if today would finally be the day that you’d be late. Even by a minute.” He patted the seat on his right. 

Spock occupied the seat and browsed the beverage menu. 

“I’ll have a roasted green tea, please,” he informed the bartender. 

“How’s your TA?”

“Cadet Uhura shows a high affinity to the role. She is one of the best students of her class,” Spock said. 

Pike nodded and sipped his whiskey. “A  _ she _ huh. And how has the experience been for you?” 

“Frankly, it was a matter of acknowledging that we needed to learn from each other. Cadet Uhura is exemplary in verbalizing her views. She is responsible and is certainly capable.” He expressed his gratitude with a dip of his head when the bartender poured his tea into a little cup and set the pot beside him.

“I’m glad to hear it. Working with people who are different from us can be difficult, but you’re right: we just need to talk about it and maintain a basic level of respect for each other.” Pike pushed a PADD toward the Vulcan and it activated with his touch, revealing a profile of a Lieutenant Gibson Brooks. 

“Here’s the shortlist of bridge crew applicants I’m considering for the Enterprise. Take a look at each profile and let me know what you think.” 

“I did not mention it in my office, but I believe I am not qualified to pass judgment on this matter, Captain.”

“I was waiting for you to say that.” Pike adjusted his position on the seat and turned toward him, elbow casually leaning on the bar counter. He navigated through the data until a profile popped up on the screen: Commander  S'chn T'gai Spock.

“You applied for the role of Chief Science Officer.” 

“That is accurate.”

“Would you want to revoke your application?”

“Negative, Captain.”

“Then consider yourself as good as hired, son,” Pike said, raising his glass as a toast. 

Spock allowed silence to settle in between them as a way of staying open to the possibility that the Captain was not of sober mind and was in the mood for a humorous hoax. In this silence, Captain Pike tilted his head in bewilderment. 

“Is it a . . . difficult concept to grasp?” 

“No, sir, I am simply unsure if it is a  _ joke. _ ” 

Pike smiled. “I’m serious, Spock. I’ll be happy to offer you your desired posting.  _ However,” _ he lingered on the pause, “You are right to be wary as I do have a condition. You can only be my Chief Science Officer  _ if  _ you agree to become my Number One. I think you would make an outstanding First Officer, Spock. And I sure as hell need that logic of yours to give me counsel.” 

“I do not understand your reason, Captain. I am certain there are candidates who come with both stellar commendations and years of required experiences aboard other starships.” 

The Captain clapped a hand on his shoulder. “The only logic I considered was simply this: I don’t want another suck up trying to butter their way around me. You tell me as it is, Commander, and that is invaluable to me. I know you’re more than familiar with how a starship works. You are savvy with any computing system; you are especially knowledgeable in engineering and the foundational concepts of running a starship; _ and _ you are fluent in several Federation languages. You’re a one stop shop, Spock.” And raising his nearly empty glass to his lips, added, “Do you accept?” 

Spock tilted his head. Though protocol mandates that it was Starfleet high command--not the Captain--who was authorized to give the final approval, he did not doubt the legitimacy of Captain Pike’s offer. “I accept and shall strive to fulfill both roles to the best of my abilities, Captain.” 

Pike downed his drink in one gulp and gave the Vulcan’s shoulder another hard clap. Spock did not particularly like being touched but viewed the act as a typical human male to male gesture of camaraderie. “C’mon, let’s continue this discussion over dinner.” 

They moved to a square table overlooking Oakland Bay Bridge and ordered their evening meal. Spock wasted no time reviewing each profile and their interview audio files. After careful deliberation, he presented his thoughts on the applicants’ suitability to the role in question. He also raised the fact that he was underwhelmed with the applicants for communications given their average test scores in the latest Federation linguistics proficiency exam. Pike heard a fair assessment and noticed the Vulcan favoring female applicants for commonly male dominated roles such as tactic analysis and helm support. 

They concluded the discussion just as the Captain ordered a jug of  _ sake _ . 

“Surely it’s only logical to celebrate your posting, Spock,” Pike responded to the Vulcan’s raised brow. 

“Celebrating has more to do with human psychology, sir. A way of rewarding effort. It is a ritual unnecessary for Vulcans as we believe an ethos of self improvement is the only logical way to survive, a matter of basic evolution.” 

“ _ Fine _ . Let’s talk about your mystery lady.” 

Spock began to doubt the man’s sobriety. “I am not engaged in a romantic relationship.” 

The waiter arrived with a small jug of exquisite oriental craftsmanship and two shallow cups. Their server took the liberty of pouring them their first drink. Throughout this process Spock felt the Captain’s solemn gaze on him, studying him like a microbe on a petri dish.

“You seem different somehow. I can’t place a finger on it . . . Like you’re  _ happier _ . I noticed it in your office. Now it’s more subtle.”

Spock’s brows ticked upward as a memory of Cadet Uhura cradling her mug came to the forefront of his thoughts. She had been delighted with the _ kaas _ he brewed and expressed her pleasure with a soft moan. It was a sound he was unfamiliar with but one that elicited a strong emotional response within him. 

To distract himself from the memory, he sampled the clear liquid in his cup and grimaced at the strength of alcohol content. The drink had a sweet after taste. Humans imbibed the most noxious drinks.

“I think it’s your TA.” 

“Suggesting a romantic attachment to my aide, though untrue, would be a clear violation of professional conduct.” 

“She only needs to graduate,” Pike teased. His smile gradually faded at Spock’s stony expression. “Okay, you’re right. I’m just being speculative and nosy. All I’m saying is you’re young. Go have some fun. Meet people. Go out on weekend road trips. Date around or pick a female and get to know her. I’m an old bugger. I shouldn’t be the only person you hang around with like this on a Friday night.” 

“I was under the impression that this would be a professional meeting, Captain. Furthermore, Vulcans do not have strong biological needs for social engagement unlike other species.” 

Pike poured himself and Spock more sake. “And what about the human half of you?”

It was a rhetorical question, which was a relief as Spock did not know how to respond to that statement. By the time the Captain ordered for the bill, Spock was certain the man cannot be sober. 

“Are you in control of your faculties, Captain?” 

“Certainly, Commander.” The words were imbued with humor. Excessive  _ happiness _ was a symptom of intoxication. Outside the hotel, the temperature had dropped and Spock was thankful to be wearing a thicker tunic. 

“You know what, I’m feeling up for a walk. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that bridge up close,” Captain Pike said. “Care to join me?” 

The man did not wait for his response and led the way. Spock simply followed course. 

* * *

Nyota was sure she was on a higher scale of tipsy, but she couldn’t recall the last time she felt so loose and free and _ young _ . She saw Sulu standing by the bar chatting to a tall guy with black hair and broad shoulders. Gaila, on the other hand, had already disappeared from the crowd and the last time she scanned the crowd, Dave was also nowhere to be seen. She doubted she’d see her roommate until tomorrow. 

_ Good for her _ , she thought. It was fact that Gaila made her sex life look like a nun’s but it was also fact that Gaila’s sexual appetites were largely demanded by her biology whereas she had more control and could actually be as selective as she wants on whom to invite to her bed. 

She felt a hand creep up around waist just as a glass of bottled water appeared on the table. 

“Thanks,” she murmured. She still had a half glass of cardassian sunrise. The bartender had offered it as a free drink with a flirty wink. 

“Want to head outside for some air?” he whispered into her ear. He stood so close behind her that she could feel his heat. She downed her cocktail in one big gulp, took the bottle of water and followed the man when he took her by the hand. The air was cool and crisp and she shivered on her first step outside the establishment. The street was more bare but still had some inebriated loiterers out enjoying the evening view. 

“Are you cold?”

Before she could respond he wrapped an arm around her shoulder with their intertwined hands remaining linked. She thought he looked like he was about to ask her something and she instinctively blurted, “Let’s walk closer to the bridge?” 

The question seemed to put him off but he nodded, hugging her closer to him. 

“You mentioned your family is in Africa. Which state are they from?” 

“Kenya. They live in Nairobi.” 

“No shit. My dad’s side is from Mombasa! He’s always on my case knowing I can’t speak Swahili.” 

“And your mom’s side?” 

“Chicago,” Derek answered with a grin. “So . . . do you have plans to go off-planet?”

She didn’t even need to think about it. “Yes Starfleet is commissioning a new starship called the NCC-1701. It will be a new flagship, outfitted with the most advanced technology, built specifically for deep space explorations. Everything I’m doing now is for the chance that I could get an assignment on that ship.” 

Derek listened and nodded. “So you know what you want and go after it huh.” 

She stopped on her tracks. Oakland Bay Bridge towered above them and with the low lamps and the sound of the water crashing against the pier, it seemed romantic. And here she was with a handsome stranger who had the same roots as hers. She had the intention of pulling Derek in for a kiss when he abruptly released her and fished out a vibrating PADD from his back pocket. He saw the caller ID and deliberately added distance between them.

“Hello?” 

He wasn’t that far enough to be out of range of  _ her _ hearing. Nyota pretended to look up and admire the bridge structure. 

“I’m just by the bar with some friends.” A pause. Then,” Yeah? I thought you wouldn’t be back until Sunday. Are you on your way home? Oh. You’re home  _ now _ . Right.” She heard him drop to a whisper so she only caught the words:  _ be right there, baby. _

Nyota didn’t have the habit of swearing but she was worried if she opened her mouth, a list of profanities might just escape and scare off some of the fishermen on the pier. Derek caught her steely gaze and the slump on his shoulders confirmed what she had just realized seconds ago. 

He looked like he was about to utter some lame excuse but he needn’t bother. She gave him a last venomous glare before turning her back to him. She wobbled in her heels but forced herself to  _ at least _ walk away with her dignity.

Halfway back to the bar, Nyota paused. She didn’t want to saddle Sulu, who looked pleased with the attention of his companion the last time she saw him, with her own pathetic turn of events. How was it even possible to encounter  _ two _ assholes in  _ one _ day? If anything, she was tempted to just sign off the entire human male population as a lost cause. Maybe she should’ve just flirted with the Trill. She doubted Trills could be such harassing or cheating liars. She leaned into the waterfront railings and took a deep breath to steady herself. 

“Cadet Uhura?” 


	7. Commander Spock’s Secret Date

Her initial thought was that the cardassian sunrise and molotov cocktails and three tequila shots had finally caught up to her. She was drunk and hearing things. To her horror, the voice simply repeated itself. “Cadet Uhura, are you well?” 

She u-turned on spot and came into direct eye contact with none other than Commander Spock. He looked different in a black tunic that sported design similarities with a motorcycle jacket yet his posture was utterly Vulcan, spine straight, hands on his side. He also looked terribly displaced. A few meters away a young male retched onto a trash bin as a companion struggled to hold him up. 

“ _Sir._ ” When he lifted both brows, she recalled him inquiring after her wellbeing. “Uhm, yes, I’m okay.” 

They spoke at the same time. _“What are you--” “Do you need--”_

She blushed. Her mind was still too foggy and she didn’t want to look drunk in front of an esteemed ranked officer. No, not just in front of a ranked officer--but also of a strictly logical Vulcan. She could almost see it on her recommendation: _exemplary grasp of languages with a penchant for irresponsible consumption of liquor_. The universe, it seemed, was conspiring against her. She can’t remember having a worse day in her twenty one years.

He yielded to her. “What are you doing here, sir?” 

He can’t possibly be out clubbing. Was he out on a _date_? Maybe all her clarifications on human dating culture had inspired him to partake in it. 

“I had been in a meeting with Captain Pike.” 

Her reaction upon hearing the captain’s name was that of alarm. Spock saw the Cadet conduct a quick survey of their surroundings and release a deep exhale once noting the captain was not in the perimeter. 

He had followed Captain Pike on a leisurely walk to the waterfront while they talked about recent Federation news concerning the fragile peace treaty with the Klingons. It was also during that period that Captain Pike revealed he would temporarily take command of the USS McKellen for a year’s support mission around the Alpha quadrant. That discussion, however, tapered off when the bridge finally appeared in full glory. It was in that same moment that Spock caught a familiar figure in the near distance. Her physique matched Cadet Uhura’s but as the woman had her hair loose and was not in an attire he commonly associated with the cadet, he was unsure of his impression. 

Spock did not believe in the notion of external forces conspiring for events to occur. Rather, he rationalized that given it was a Friday night and Terran culture often assigned social events on that particular evening, it wasn’t impossible to meet a cadet he was familiar with out on a social engagement. He simply found it improbable that he would encounter Cadet Uhura. Especially on her romantic engagement. 

A man had his arm around her bare shoulders. 

The pair did not concern him but he found his eyes attracted to the woman like a magnetic force. The male distanced himself from the embrace just as Captain Pike said: “Saw someone you know?” 

He doubted Cadet Uhura would take pleasure in meeting a Starfleet captain and himself while on her intimate evening excursion, and he sought to distract the captain away from the scene. 

“Captain, I would like to suggest we retire for the night. You have imbibed enough alcoholic beverage to ascertain your intoxication. May I assist you in hailing a cab?” 

Pike let out a prolonged exhale. “You’re right, _of course_. Vina would be pleased you said that.” 

Spock knew Vina to be the captain’s second wife. 

“I’ll hail my own cab.” Pike raised his hand and caught the attention of an available vehicle which promptly stopped at their location. 

Spock saluted the man who was both superior, mentor and friend. “Live long and prosper, Captain.” 

Pike gave him a final look after boarding the transport. “Take care, son.” 

When Spock returned his gaze to the spot where the couple had stood only moments ago, he found them gone. Perhaps he had been mistaken. It took only seconds for his eyes to find her again, and this time he was certain the woman he saw was his aide. She was simply across the street, twenty meters away dressed in a peculiarly minimal top and a black skirt that left her legs too bare to be comfortable on a cool evening. Her feet were encased in high platform shoes that looked like an unwise choice for walking distances more than 300 meters. Her solitude made him wonder if her rendezvous was over. As he was an instructor in the academy and she a cadet, he reasoned it was only logical for him to be concerned. 

“Captain Pike has just left,” he explained. The cosmetics on her face enhanced her features, he thought. “I do not mean to interfere with your evening, Cadet. I only wish to ensure your safety.” 

His statement surprised her, judging the way her red lips softly parted. He waited for her response as an overly arduous young couple passed them in a fit of giggles and body groping.

“That’s very thoughtful, sir, _thank you_.” She cleared her throat. “Uhm. I left my group a few minutes ago to enjoy the view.” 

“The view is admirable,” he concurred. “Captain Pike also wished to see the structure up close.”

He watched her fidget with her hands and wondered for the second time if she was cold. Perhaps she was waiting for her male companion.

“As you claim to be well, I shall leave you now so you can continue enjoying the view and the rest of the evening.” He was about to raise his hand to call a transporter when the Cadet rushed to say: “I-I also plan on getting back to the dorms.”

The first notion that came to his mind was to offer to share a cab with her but, after consideration, thought it better to assist her in acquiring her own transport to avoid impropriety and overstepping his bounds as a member of faculty. 

“Thank you, sir.” As she made her way to the curb, her balance finally failed, and she tripped in her own high heel. His reaction was swift as was hers. She instinctively grabbed onto the nearest object to steady herself which was his arm but as he too had reached to assist her, her hand latched on to his wrist. 

His palm grasped her hand and saved her from completely falling to the ground. His firm grip helped get her back on her feet. Nyota vaguely registered an electric sensation that travelled from her hand to the rest of her body, but that feeling was dwarfed by the intensity of her mortification. 

“I’m s-so _sorry_ , Commander.”

He didn’t seem to pay heed to her flustered apology.

“Is your ankle hurt?” he asked, voice steady. 

Was concern always his first reaction? Her ankle did feel sore but she was sure it wasn’t sprained. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry for being . . . ” _drunk? awkward? a burden?_ “careless.” 

“Your apology is unnecessary as I am certain you did not _intend_ to fall.”

“But I feel like I’m violating your personal time and burdening you--” 

“Cadet, it was _I_ who approached you,” he pointed out, holding the door for her. “You are not a burden.” 

The driver muttered if she was getting in or not, and it jolted her composure to return. She took a deep inhale and nodded. “ _Thank you_ , Commander Spock. Good night.” 

He merely bowed his head in acknowledgment and hailed his own ride back to campus. It was already past midnight at 0114 hours but Spock felt a sudden need to forego sleep and meditate. Something within him felt off, as if his usual tightly wound cords of restraint was unspooled in the middle and slowly unravelling. He distastefully recalled the man’s arms around Cadet Uhura’s body, and it was only when he arrived at the faculty house that he noticed his left hand was clenched. 

On the ride back to the Academy, Nyota looked out the window past rows of clean cut glass buildings. She saw block after block of the well-architected structures of steel, glass, and stone. Carefully calculated corners. Precisely drawn details. 

It reminded her of Commander Spock. 

Running into him on a pub street was embarrassing but it seemed like the last thing he meant for her to feel. His expression didn’t even betray the fact that he probably knew she was drunk. He was only concerned for her. 

_I only wish to ensure your safety._

He had that chivalrous manner--an unguarded way of speaking that warmed her. 

For a moment, when the Commander had offered to hail her a cab she felt disappointed. She had wanted to share a ride with him if only to be with him a while longer. It was because he had _felt_ so stable and assuring, she insisted to herself, whereas she felt a mess on the verge of tears. But of course that would have been incredibly inappropriate. 

“Starfleet Academy,” the driver announced. “Miss, can you point me to where I can drop you off?”

She guided the man to her dorm lobby and paid her fare. Nyota noticed herself being quite clear headed when she stepped out of the car and into the cool evenight air. The bottled water Derek had given her was already helping her sober up. Her room was empty when she arrived but rather than wallow in pity or even anger, she felt oddly calm. 

She rolled through with her evening routine, wiping off her make-up with care and moisturizing. When she slipped under the sheets and commanded the lights out, she thought about how she must give Commander Spock something nice in return for today. For being the one silver lining to an otherwise shitty day.

* * *

Spock was grateful for the midterm week as a needed reprieve from the weekly presence of his aide in his office. He had excused Cadet Uhura from her duties for two weeks in order to give her adequate time to prepare for her own exams. He did not doubt she would utilize the break to excel in all her courses. It was just as well as he needed some time to take command of his emotions, which had been insufferably chaotic since their evening encounter at Oakland Bay waterfront. He had spent that evening in a deep meditation that nearly consumed his weekend, and, through mental discipline, he was able to isolate the problem. 

He was acutely _attracted_ to Cadet Uhura. 

The pleasure he felt when their hands met made relegating that memory to the far recess of his mind quite impossible. He was attracted to her such as he had never been with another female. Even his _ozh'esta_ within his seventeen year long bond with T’Pring could not compare to the feeling he felt when a careless circumstance led him to grasp Cadet Uhura’s hand. 

As he wrestled with the emotion that night, he judged it logical for him to admire her. He offered her the position of his teaching aide for the very reason that he admired her many good qualities. The algorithm he had coded to assign his TA candidates a grade compatibility resulted in her acquiring the highest grade of 75%—revealing her affinity not just with the role but with him as well. She was competent both in her endeavors and character. 

Yet admiration and attraction were distinctly different feelings. He did not feel particularly attracted to her when he had singled her out for the role. Admiration had simply been the foundation. He combed through every memory thereafter and identified his first recognition of attraction to be when he had passed through the student dorms and witnessed her in a private moment of reading out on the dormitory lawn. Her aesthetics had pleased him and her consequent laughter had induced a sensation he was then not familiar with. 

The metaphor humans used to describe the phenomenon: a _spark_ of attraction was well worded. He was beginning to grasp the instantaneous quality of such sentiment. His once logical notion that it was better for Cadet Uhura and himself to be comfortable with each other given the length of period they would be around each other hid the ulterior motive that he had plainly desired a better relationship with her. His subconscious had been hard at work, bending logic to its will, and, as a result, his attraction for her has grown as their acquaintanceship deepened into camaraderie. 

Given his diagnosis, Spock prescribed to himself that he would merely _observe_ the matter further. Attraction was simply the interplay of his biology: hormones and senses all led to the sentiment of _liking_ and the consequent need to be liked in return. And while he cannot always help but _feel_ the emotion it elicits, Spock was confident that he had enough control over his physical faculties. It was something his father had counselled when he was an adolescent. He may feel much, but ultimately one is judged by the logic of one’s actions. The burden of responsibility therein lay in his control over what others can perceive: words, gestures, and actions. 

Cadet Uhura, he decided, must not become aware of his sentiments. In this, regulation was clear that as he was in a superior position above her, he may not overstep his boundaries beyond a platonic relationship. There was also nothing on the part of Cadet Uhura that would indicate a mutual sentiment. He was not well versed with her personal life and acknowledged that she could already be in a romantic relationship with the unidentified male. He used this possibility to bolster his resolve despite there being a sense of lingering disappointment. 

His PADD alerted him of a new message. 

_Spock, I’ve reserved a seat on a transport to San Francisco for next Friday. My arrival would be 1545 hours. Would you be free to have dinner with me at 1900? I’ll be staying at your father’s Ambassador residence. Meet me there?_

He typed his one-worded response: _Affirmative._

* * *

Nyota felt physically sore from hours of sitting down hunched over her PADDs. The past ten days had been mentally agonizing but now that she had finished her last midterm exam (Advanced Romulan), she savored the relief. The first thing she did after leaving the Comms Lab was to head back to her dorm and lay down on the lawn with her boots off. The feeling of grass under her feet and the sun warm on her skin was glorious. 

Gaila mentioned they head out for celebratory drinks but she still hadn’t gotten over the disastrous night exactly two weeks ago. Not completely anyway. Her roommate stated that it was only a case of bad luck and she shouldn’t swear off the fun. Nyota simply replied that she wasn’t in the mood for that kind of fun for a while. A _long_ while.

She hadn’t seen Commander Spock since then. He instructed her via message to take last week off to focus on her exams. It was nice of him and she definitely could use the time off, but a small part of her wondered if he found her clumsiness that night to be distasteful. She had grabbed his hand and mentally flayed herself many times over the past days for violating his personal boundaries. Interspecies protocol was clear about it. As a general rule, Vulcans do not like being touched.

While on a study break in the library she even researched about _why_ Vulcans preferred to avoid physical contact. According to a brief explanation at the Vulcan embassy website under _Frequently Asked Questions_ , it was because the species are touch telepaths and it is therefore only prudent to avoid physical contact to prevent accidental breaches in the privacy of a non-telepath. 

The answer was not clear as to what kind of breach would occur with contact. Did Commander Spock read her mind? Did he gain a momentary access to her memories? Or was he only able to perceive her emotions? Neither question would spare her from feeling embarrassed. Then there was that peculiar sensation that had spread within her when he held onto her hand. Was that his telepathy at work? It was difficult to articulate but it felt _good_. It was warm. Like the feeling of a tight hug from a loved one. 

Nyota sat up. It was Friday and the last day of examinations. She was free for the rest of the afternoon. Surely Commander Spock had exams to grade. The service was the least she could do to make up for their last encounter.

The Vulcan wasn’t in his office so she let herself in with her ID which he had authorized admission into his office. She noticed his table contained several PADDs and a holo of a starship model hovered beside his computer screen. As it was not the Commander’s habit to leave his desk cluttered before departing for lectures or retiring for the day, she guessed he must have only stepped out momentarily. 

A small hard drive was on her table, and she knew it to be the exam files for his communication classes. He couldn’t have known she’d pop by his office today, she mused with a small smile. It spoke volumes of the Commander’s level of preparedness.

She stuck the hard drive into the slot of her PADD and downloaded the materials. She began with the freshmen course as it was easier than the sophomore’s Advanced Phonology exam which would need to be aurally graded. Nyota had barely begun on the first file when vibrations sounded off from the Commander’s PADD. 

He was receiving a call. 

She wasn’t authorized to take his calls for him; so she ignored it. The caller, however, was not so easily dissuaded. The PADD jumped back to life after a few seconds of silence. Nyota got up from her seat and stalked to his table. Maybe it was an emergency. She read the caller ID: Amanda Grayson. 

A woman? 

It was unfortunate that the door opened at the precise moment she stood behind his table, looking as if she had been snooping around his things.

“Commander Spock.” She swore her voice was not usually so high and prayed he did not notice. “An _Amanda Grayson_ was calling you, sir.” 

“Cadet. I am not expecting you today.” The center of his brows were slightly wrinkled. 

“I-I was done with my exams so I thought I’d come by and offer my assistance. I found the hard drive you left . . .” 

Spock kept his strict gaze on her. “The task was meant for when you resume your duties next week.”

“Oh.” Was he just saying it as a matter of fact or . . . “Should I just come back on Monday then?”

Spock nodded. “That would be preferred.” 

As Nyota gathered her things, she saw him tap on his PADD from her peripheral vision. On her way out, she heard a woman’s voice speak. She presumed it to be Ms. Grayson. 

_Spock, I called to say that my flight is delayed by 45 minutes. Can dinner be-_

Nyota failed to hear the rest of the message when the door closed behind her. The woman, judging from the affectionate tone of voice, was not simply an acquaintance but seemed to be on more intimate terms with him. She heard about the scheduled flight and _dinner plans_. Was the Commander in some kind of long distance relationship? Was Ms. Grayson a girlfriend posted off planet and tonight was their much anticipated reunion? She shook her head, gripping her PADD tighter. She was being a sucker for gossip, she thought. Commander Spock’s love life really wasn’t her business. 

He was weird today, though. Nyota frowned. If she was being ungenerous, she’d think he was relieved to get rid of her. Maybe he didn’t want Ms. Grayson to learn he had a TA. Some girlfriends were overly insecure and territorial. Maybe Ms. Grayson was one of those terrible, jealous types--

 _Stop creating your own narrative_ , she mentally berated, putting a halt on further speculation. She had just finished her midterms. Her mind needed a break, _not_ to mentally narrate a Vulcan love story. 

It was time for a run. 

And _maybe_ ice cream. 

Nyota surveyed the golden gate bridge from her spot on Crissy field as her lungs gasped for air. And just across the bay: Starfleet Academy. It was a sight that she’d never get used to, especially in the golden light of a setting sun. Three years of living in the city and she still found it as beautiful as the first time she saw it. The park was busy with runners, walkers, _pet_ owners, and tourists. Several groups were having picnics on the lawn, soaking in the last bits of sun. 

She opened her water bottle and took three gulps, not particularly caring about wetting the front of her long sleeved activewear. Her wristcomm recorded her run at 5.23km for 21.06 minutes. She was still checking on her stats when she received an incoming call. 

“Hello?” 

“I just got off my midterms, and _damn it_ , I failed to disengage the enemy’s shields in time during tactics simulation--I’m _dead_ , Uhura.” Then after a pause: “You got time to spar?” 

“Sulu, I just ran 3 miles. I’m wiped out.” Then the idea occurred to her. “I’m heading out for ice cream though. Care to come?” 

Nyota heard him laugh from the other line. It was one thing she liked about Sulu, being able to laugh about things people usually took too seriously without it taking away from his dedication. It was a quality she wanted to learn. “Cookie dough ice cream actually does sound nice. I’ll meet you there.” 

They met at _Bocelli’s Gelateria_ and took seats out on the patio. As it was dinner time, they had the whole place to themselves. 

“If you’re going to tell me you aced your exams, it would probably be better for you not to speak at all,” Sulu muttered before spooning a bite of ice cream. 

“Tactics was pretty tough, but I don’t think I did too badly. Then again, my class is half as challenging as that of command track students.” 

“What’s your most challenging comms class?” 

“Probably Advanced Romulan.”

“How did you do?” 

“I was lucky. I had a lot of help practicing the vocabularies . . . ” Nyota looked down at her dark chocolate ice cream and spooned it into her mouth. Her thoughts wandered back to Commander Spock. Maybe he was already having dinner with the mysterious Ms. Grayson.

“You’re the better Asian between the two of us,” Sulu groaned with a melodramatic flair that made her laugh. 

Starfleet Academy was notoriously difficult. In another life, they wouldn’t even be sitting around talking about alien languages and simulation exams. “Do you think it’s worth it? All of this just to serve aboard a starship? We could’ve gone to a regular university and do normal white-collared jobs at any starbase.” It was the alternate life spiel she and Gaila often discussed jokingly to destress from academic demands. 

The question had a more sobering effect on Sulu. “Ever since I was little and saw the first starship model at the National History Museum, I knew I wanted to fly one,” Sulu confessed, setting down an empty paper cup on the table. “You?”

Nyota bit onto her cone and savored the sweet crunch. “I really enjoyed learning languages and communicating with people who were different from me. Mama noticed I had a pretty good memory so she enrolled me in French and Spanish classes at a young age. Then one day when I was fifteen I met my first non-terran species--a Vulcan merchant. My baba was doing business with him and invited him over to our house for dinner. I overheard him speak in his native tongue after he excused himself from the table to take a call, and I can’t explain it but I found his language really beautiful.” Nyota smiled wistfully at the memory. “I wanted to study xenolinguistics then.” 

‘You can work with the Federation diplomacy corps. Or a consulate of your choice,” the man pointed out. 

She nodded. “But I liked the idea of exploration. Before coming here I lived in a small town on the outskirts of Nairobi. I used to dream of going into space as a Starfleet officer. It seemed exciting, a total adventure. And so here I am, studying my ass off.” 

“Here we are, a bunch of suckers,” Sulu sighed with a shake of his head though with a hint of smile on his lips. Nyota giggled. 

“So you’re fluent in Vulcan? Aren’t you that Vulcan instructor’s TA?” 

“You mean Commander Spock. To both questions, yes.”

“He’s not an instructor for command track students, but I’ve heard he’s a terror with grades. He’ll drag your GPA down.”

Nyota felt an impulse to defend the Commander. “It’s true, he’s tough, but it’s because he sets a high standard of excellence for his students. He focuses on the quality of learning rather than awarding grades so we could look good on our resume. I think he’s a fair instructor. If he sees the validity of a point, he won’t hesitate to adjust his stance.” 

Sulu opened his mouth but the Cadet wasn’t finished. “ _And_ he listens _really_ well--you just kind of need to get over his intimidating persona. Commander Spock, needless to say, is incredibly intelligent and talented. He handles two comms classes this term but also _four_ more with engineering _above_ the other tasks he has that are not related to academics.” 

When she finished Sulu was eyeing her weirdly. “ _Okay_. I’ll . . . take your word for it. He looks like a cool guy, actually. A bit stiff and pointed at the corners but he can’t help that he’s Vulcan.” 

“ _Exactly_. And he’s incredibly good mannered. More than a lot of guys.”

“More than _Derek_?” Sulu grinned suggestively. “That guy was cute. Are you guys seeing each other?” 

She forgot to tell him about that night and her heavy sigh told Sulu all there was to know. It didn’t take long to fill him in on what happened that night, minus Commander Spock randomly appearing like some Vulcan knight in shining armor.

“I thought it went well after you guys took off! You could’ve texted me, Uhura.” 

“You were looking cozy with some guy at the bar! I didn’t want to be a mood killer,” she said defensively, turning the table on to him. “Now that it's a fact that my night was a nightmare, how did yours go?” 

His smile looked giddy though he was trying not to show it. “I met someone. That guy at the bar.” 

“Tall? Black hair?”

Sulu laughed. “Yeah. That was him. He just started chatting me up, and at first I thought it was because I was the only other Asian guy in the place. Typical, right? It took me a while and a few shots to pick up on the signals that he wasn’t _just_ having a friendly chat.” 

“Are you guys still in touch?”

“Yeah, we’ve been texting. I’m seeing him tomorrow. It’s funny though, I thought at first that he totally wasn’t my type.” 

Nyota snorted. “What’s your type?” 

“Brunettes with blue eyes, if you really want to know,” Sulu grinned and continued, “Anyway, the more I talked with him the more I found him funny and by the end of the night it didn’t matter that I was falling into another Asian stereotype. I liked him.” 

It was sweet hearing Sulu open up to her about something so intimate. Nyota reached out for his hand on the table and squeezed. “My sad love life notwithstanding, I’m really happy for you, Sulu.” 

Sulu sat up. “You’re kidding me right? I know _at least_ three guys who would love to get your number.” 

She didn’t really know what to say to that and settled for a shrug. “We should get back. Let’s grab something on the way back? I know a truck that sells good burritos” 

They walked down the pavement in the direction of the food truck Nyota mentioned. With the sun gone, it was gradually becoming chilly and she wished she brought a thicker sports jacket.

“I mean it though. A lot of guys secretly would love to go out with you.”

Nyota absorbed this and felt her confidence buoy. “Thanks,” she said finally. “At first, I thought I’d rather focus on getting through the academy, but I think it’s really just a matter of meeting the right guy. But wait, you said guys like me _in secret-_ -why in secret?” 

Sulu raised one brow. “You have any idea how intimidating you are?”

_“What?!”_

“You’re a brilliant student, among the top of our class,” Sulu held out his counting fingers. “and you got that attitude that broadcasts you don’t take bullshit lying down. And maybe there’s the fact that you can cuss in at least six different languages. Guys are having a hard time measuring up.”

Her mind churned this information furiously. Guys found her _unapproachable_? Since when did that happen? She was sociable enough and had plenty of friends from the department and from the choir. Then again, she had stopped hanging out with plenty of those people outside of academic activities.

“Hey, this isn’t on you, Uhura,” Sulu clarified just as he spotted the food truck near the corner of Sacramento street. “You’re good at what you do and you work hard for it. In my opinion, guys need to be the one to step up.” 

They ordered their wraps and ate it on their way back to campus. On the shuttle, her PADD ping-ed to notify her of a message. After the fifth notification under twenty seconds and two glances from strangers, she pressed her PADD to mute and began reading Gaila’ s messages.

_So I’m at Gastown for happy hour (they have the best unlimited rosé) and guess who I saw._

_You’ll never guess it so I might as well tell you..._

_It’s your Vulcan Commander!!!!_

_And holy smokes you’ll NEVER GUESS what he’s doing._

_Hahah. I can imagine you telling me to just get straight to the point._

_ANYWAY. I saw him walking on the street with a person who DEFINITELY looks female. She was hanging onto his elbow. They went inside one of those posh restaurants with the white cloth tables._

_For the sake of the juiciest information I’ve had in a long time, I stalked them a little, took a calculated risk and snapped a picture as proof that your Vulcan Commander has got more game than I give him credit for._

Gaila’s amateur paparazzi picture was shot from outside the restaurant. Zooming in, the figure occupying the table behind the couple by the window did vaguely look like Commander Spock and across him was a person whose features she could barely make out. She wouldn’t even know she was human judging solely from the image without knowing what she did. That person must be Amanda Grayson. 

She weighed in on the fact that the Commander took Ms. Grayson to a fine dining restaurant and that she had his hands on his arm as they walked down the street. Nyota had no doubt about it. Commander Spock was on a date.

“Bad news?” 

Her head snapped up from her phone. “No, it’s just some messages from Gaila.” 

Sulu blinked. “Oh. I thought it was bad news. Your face looked--” He didn’t get to finish as the shuttle came to a full stop and Nyota got distracted by having to get down the shuttle with her PADD acting up with more messages from Gaila. The Orion was clearly thrilled playing the part of a detective observing Commander Spock’s love life. 

No doubt she would hear all about it when her roommate returns to the dorm, and, strangely, Nyota sensed that she didn’t want to. 

* * *

Spock arrived at the Vulcan Ambassador’s residence tucked in a quieter, residential street that was a 24 minute walk from the embassy. He surveyed the three storey building that was curiously human in design, mirroring an unconventional Georgian architecture with its precise symmetry and tall rectangular windows. He pressed on the doorbell and heard the fluttering sound of footsteps behind the door. 

An ecstatic woman was revealed when the door slid open. “Oh, Spock!”

It had been a while since he saw her without the traditional Vulcan headscarf. Her shoulder length brown hair was wavy with a small amount of scattered grays. Amanda Grayson looked perfectly human in her gray knitted wrap top, white trousers, and a sensible pair of nude flats. She opted for terran attire when apart from his father. 

She opened her arms wide and Spock settled in between. Her arms alighted on his forearms. “Hello, Mother.” 

“I haven’t seen you in ages!” 

“Correction: you have not personally seen me for 2 years, four months and 16 days. And you look well, Mother.” 

“I’m glad to be back. This is my first home, and I don’t get to visit as often as I want to.” 

What went unsaid was the fact that his father’s duties as Ambassador as well as their estranged relationship prevented a more frequent reunion. His mother desired an annual visit, but the past two years had been difficult with his father’s commitment to a five year tour of the Federation’s top starbases as the representative of the Vulcan High Council. For urgent matters that required his father’s presence back on Earth, his mother was expected to carry on with her role as an Ambassador’s wife. Regardless of duty, Spock knew Amanda relished the community projects that came with her role. 

“There is a new restaurant a few blocks away that I perceive would conform to your preferences,” he stated. “Would you rather take a vehicle?” 

“No, let’s walk. The weather is beautiful tonight.” She grabbed a hold of his arm as was his mother’s habit with him. With his father, she was expected to show proper decorum at all times under the public eye. But with him she was allowed more liberties such as insisting her need to hold on to his arm as they walked even though she was, as he had refuted on multiple occasions, perfectly able to walk and in no need of assistance.

He listened to the woman’s nostalgic chatter as they walked. She listed the things and places that she missed about San Francisco and pointed out differences with Starbase 11 where she and his father were currently appointed.

The restaurant he selected, _L’Opera_ , specialized in Italian cuisine--something his mother keenly missed. 

He had made an appointment for dinner at 1930 hours so they were both seated immediately. The establishment had plenty of vegetarian options. He ordered the 4-way bruschetta (tomato basil, mushroom thyme, olive and oregano, pea and mint) to share and butternut squash canelloni with vegan cheese. Amanda ordered a vegan zuppa toscana, squid ink tagliatelle, and a glass of white wine. 

“What is your itinerary?” He inquired after the waiter finished filling his mother’s wine glass. 

“There are a few things I want to do, namely visit the cemetery” Spock nodded. Across all of human culture was the veneration for deceased family members and loved ones and the need for remembrance through prescribed holidays and the notion of “paying respects”. His grandparents had passed away when he was six so he had only a vague recollection of them. 

“I also want to get my nails done-- _don’t_ say it is illogical.” She chided him before he could even say anything. 

“I wouldn’t have said illogical, only that it is unnecessary.” 

“Your mother is a vain woman,” Amanda said with a smile. “Visit the beach is third on my list. And eat salted caramel ice cream, preferably by the beach.” 

His mothers’ barely contained excitement was understandable. Dairy was nonexistent in Vulcan as its society became devout vegetarians after the time of the Great Teacher Surak. Vegan version of the dessert was available but hard to come by. He suddenly wondered if Cadet Uhura also preferred the frozen dessert but refused to dwell on it. 

“I was contacted to attend a convention, actually.” Amanda briefly thanked the waiter who brought them the bruschetta before turning back to her son. “The Federation thought it would be good to re-launch community programs to celebrate and promote species diversity. I actually just reached out to the Academy this morning on a rather short notice if they can spare a few representatives to give a brief talk at local elementary and high schools.” 

Spock merely nodded. He consumed the appetizer with his cutleries while Amanda took the faster way of eating with her bare hands. 

“Do you know any student who fits the profile? I’ll only need three.” 

“I do. I had a student in Advanced Phonology who is talented in several Federation languages. She is also among the top of her class. I believe she has the suitable credentials to represent the Academy for your purpose.” 

Amanda’s eyes widened with interest. “What’s her name? It’s not often I hear such praises from you.” 

“I am merely stating facts, Mother. She also happens to be my teaching aide, Cadet Uhura.” 

Humans would describe his mothers’ eyes to have _sparkled_ or, factually speaking, _dilated_ with excitement. “Oh! The one in xenolinguistics? Is Uhura her first name?” 

He paused. “Negative. Her first name is Nyota.” He read it from the Cadet’s student file but it was the first time he used her name. He was keenly aware of that fact as he said it. 

“Nyota Uhura . . .” Amanda repeated with a slow nod. “It’s a pretty name.” 

He had no response for that statement and avoided his mother’s probing gaze. 

Speaking of the cadet made him remember the scene from two weeks ago. Their coincidental meeting. Her bare shoulders, the delicate curve of her collarbone. Her hand in his tight grip. Her scent lingering in the air just as she passed by him to enter the vehicle he had hailed for her.

And then earlier that afternoon when she appeared in his office. He had been unprepared for her presence and dismissed her despite its ill logic. She was already in his office and expressed a willingness to commence her duties. She should have been reasonably allowed to proceed. But it was the first that he had seen her since his self admission of attraction. Spock felt himself become overwhelmed, triggering a deep instinct to avoid her. The entire interaction was _unfortunate._

“I offered my opinion as you have asked for it, but it is the faculty administration’s discretion on who to select for your program.”

Amanda smiled in a manner of knowing. “Of course, Spock.”

Their main course arrived. 

“How are you faring on Starbase 11?” Spock asked. 

“It’s alright, I suppose. The weather in the daytime is wonderful but at night it plunges to below freezing. I think it contributed to your father’s poor health recently.” 

“I have read that Commodore Johnson intends to expand its research facilities by three fold as well as to launch economic policies that would boost livelihood apart from those related to Starship building and repairs.” 

Amanda nodded. “The base population has exploded in recent years. Immigration grew by 125% in the last four years.” 

“60% of total immigrants are humans and 4% are Vulcans,” Spock added.

“The high council and the Vulcan Science Academy is, in fact, encouraging emigration, especially where research and mining opportunities are involved. Vulcans tend to be a very cautious race, preferring to stick amongst themselves. Your father is hence involved in discussing incentive programs that would encourage a diaspora to other bases and planets.” 

Spock personally knew that his species strongly preferred to keep to themselves. It accounted for the taunting he had received as a child. Being a Vulcan with human blood was an anomaly and went against their ways. Were he not a child of Vulcan’s well regarded ambassador, he doubted he would even be accepted. But while his father’s position offered him a logical reason for existence, it did not provide him whole acceptance from those with conservative views. Vulcan culture was largely influenced by traditions and rituals. The preservation of such traditions came at the cost of entrepreneurial interests and audacious ambitions. 

“I concur. It would be beneficial for the Federation as a whole if Vulcan scientists were to cooperate with research efforts. It would bring the race inter-galactic acclaim and renown as well as contribute to our collective knowledge.”

“It’s an uphill battle,” Amanda confessed. “But at least your father is coming around on the topic.” 

“I find him an ironic champion of the cause.” 

Their estrangement was rooted in his choice to pursue a career in Starfleet rather than the Vulcan Science Academy, a break in the chain of tradition passed down for generations. His father’s wrath on the topic was something he found illogical as Sarek himself has made the most unconventional choice of all in taking up a human wife, but such was the sway of tradition over their kind. 

“Just as I said, it’s an uphill battle.” When she smiled, Spock noticed tinges of black ink on her lips. It was a comical sight, and he offered her a napkin. “Your father will be heading home for a few weeks to rest and I will join him there.” 

Spock watched as his mother resumed twirling the black sauced pasta in her plate. “Mother, may I inquire on a matter of a personal nature?” 

Her fork ceased twirling. “Yes, of course.” 

He had always wondered if his mother was truly happy. 

“What was your primary motivation in marrying Father?” 

Amanda regarded him with surprise. It was just like her, to insert mirth whenever she found him too serious. “I thought it was rather obvious.” 

“I would not inquire if it were,” Spock countered. 

She took a sip of wine and looked him straight in the eye. “It’s because I love him.” 

_Love._ It was the bane of human existence, the overly sensationalized and romanticized feeling which was merely a hormonal reaction. His mother chose prudently to resume with her meal and not probe further into his unusual query. As they finished their meal and moved on to other topics, Spock kept to himself the unforgiving thought that his mother was an unfortunate woman for loving a Vulcan who had married her simply out of logic. 

He had always wondered how much his mother suffered behind her easy smiles, having to co-exist with a race that was unkind to emotions, to her very human-ness. Out of love, she had reigned herself in to follow customs that were not hers and beliefs she did not always share. She had to practice restraint and be denied the pleasures of expressed affection. 

As they walked back to the Ambassador’s residence, his mother contentedly took the crook of his arm. The top of her head only came up to his throat. It was easy to watch her without her knowing. 

In another life his mother could have had a husband who openly adored her and children she could hug and smother in kisses. She could laugh out loud at the dinner table and suffer no prejudices among society. She will not be covertly labelled as a disadvantage to her son but would be well-regarded for her charm, wit, and kindness to everyone she meets. She could be fully herself without needing to give any part of herself up. 

Humans would be quick to point out the tragedy. While his parents’ marriage has lasted decades and persevered past prejudices, the bond came at a deep cost that his mother had and would continue to pay for the rest of her life. 

His thoughts flitted back to Nyota-- _Cadet Uhura_. He bound his attraction within the sobering fact that Vulcans and humans simply remain deeply incompatible. It would be, as his mother had said, an uphill battle. 

One he did not intend to engage in. 

* * *

Note: I really like Sulu (admittedly because of John Cho) and hopefully I’ll be able to integrate him more into the story in future chapters. 


	8. A Special Assignment

The Monday when Cadet Uhura was to resume her teaching aide duties brought an unusual rain shower in the bay area and brought temperatures to a low of 14’C. While humans found the weather pleasing and “cozy”, Spock found it chilly and commanded his thermostat to maintain a comfortable 30’C.

He only lowered the thermostat to 24’C in the few minutes before his aide was due in his office. Her last Monday class ended at 1530 hours. He reasonably expected her at 1600. When Cadet Uhura arrived at precisely 1616 he noticed her uniform to be slightly damp. 

“Sorry I’m late, Commander.” 

“There is nothing to apologize for. You are not mandated to report at a fixed time.” And yet he was aware of each minute that passed since 1600. She usually arrived at 1555 hours.

She was holding something in her hand, a big flask, which she set on her table. “I hope you don’t mind but I’ve done the liberty of grading the exams over the weekend. I just have phonology left.” 

He looked up and saw her retreat to the corner where he kept his personal mug. She procured one and took it to her table. “Efficiency is always welcome. May I inquire why you have my mug?”

“I bought you something,” she said with a grin. Spock lifted a brow and wondered if there was an occasion he was not aware of. Members of the faculty often gave treats to celebrate joyous occasions such as birthdays. 

“Is there an occasion?” He watched as she opened the flask and poured a liquid whose color reminded him of coffee lattes. The aroma, however, was different and far more fragrant. 

“It’s masala chai. I grew up drinking it, and I know a place here that makes great ones using oat milk.” She set the mug down on his desk with a pleased smile. “I thought I’d get you one as a way to express my gratitude. Thank you for helping me with my Romulan. _A-and for that night at Oakland bridge,_ ” she muttered the last sentence in a rush. 

He was about to point out the logic of his actions but thought otherwise when he opened his mouth, settling for a human response. “You are welcome.” He lifted the steaming mug into his lips. The scent was already pleasing and strangely familiar. After he took a first sip, the Cadet explained her gift of choice. “When I tried your _kaas_ , I remembered my mama’s family masala chai recipe. Growing up, I usually had it after school.” 

It was reminiscent of his Vulcan brew but the chai had sweet notes and a heat he found delicious and soothing. “There is ginger in this brew,” he said, relishing the lingering warmth in his throat. “It is pleasant. Thank you, Cadet. I shall procure this beverage in the future.” 

“I’m glad you like it.” And she did, Spock noted, look extremely pleased with herself. He felt a flutter in his digestive organ and had to mentally whip his emotions back into place. 

She resumed her seat and Spock noticed her straighten the red jacket of her uniform. 

“Cadet, for your comfort, I would advise removing the outer layer of your uniform as it appears to be damp.”

“I--” She paused seemingly to acquiesce his suggestion. “Thank you, sir, you’re right.” 

He did not mean to observe her but from his peripheral view he saw her peel off the jacket, drape it across the back of her seat and settle in more comfortably in her red turtleneck undershirt. The knit fabric clung to her slender physique. Spock swiveled his seat away from her and trained his eyes on his computer. He felt warm and thought it perhaps to be the effects of the chai. 

They worked in comfortable silence for the next hour until he heard her utter a low groan. She had her ear pods on, listening to the recorded examination of his phonology students. A few minutes later, another groan. This time she had her face buried in her palms. 

“Cadet, are you distressed?” 

“Yes, your student Cadet Connor is butchering your language, sir. His Vulcan greeting is possibly the most tone deaf version I’ve ever heard. I feel sorry that you have to listen to it.” 

Spock speculated her words to be merely exaggeration. He doubted Cadet Connor could be worse than certain students from previous batches. Grading phonology was generally not a pleasant experience. A slim majority of the communications students were passably average at best. Only a select few really excelled, among which Cadet Uhura stood at top rank. He could still recall grading her phonology exam and discovering her sentences to be surprisingly accurate in sequence and inflection. It was a memory he retained with clarity. He felt proud of her then, as any human instructor would feel at the accomplishment of a student, and had to stifle the sentiment. 

Every term he would receive multiple emails requesting grade reconsiderations, some from top students who were worried about missing a target GPA. To her merit, Cadet Uhura only requested for a consultation to discuss her points for improvement. She also explained the _reason_ behind the answers he had marked as incorrect and defended it in a way that was logical. It was the beginning of his admiration toward a cadet who showed an exemplary work ethic, strength of character and skill in articulation not commonly found in her peers. 

“How can you even say that! Lecture twelve _clearly_ explains--” She cut herself from verbally abusing her PADD. 

It was a sentiment he can align with. Spock’s lip quivered when the woman elicited another sound of frustration and went back to work. 

* * *

“So did you ask our new resident loverboy who he was on a date with last Friday night?” 

Nyota sat down on the edge of the bed and unzipped her boots. “I’m _never_ going to ask Commander Spock something like that--It’s none of our business!” 

“But admit it, you’re cuuuriiiooous,” the Orion sang.

“No, I’m not.” She was. 

“What’s the point of having this friendship with him if you can’t ask him about juicy information?” 

“We’re not _best buddies_ , Gaila. He’s still a member of the faculty,” Nyota responded in exasperation. 

“I forgot to tell you, but I thought the woman looked older. Maybe Commander Spock has a certain kink toward mothers he’d like to--”

“Can we just stop talking about Commander Spock like this?” Nyota snapped. “It’s just . . .” she softened her voice, “It’s _weird_ to listen to these things since I see him a lot, you know?” 

“Oh, yeah, I guess so,” Gaila said in a somber mood, her eyes slightly narrowed as if she just detected something she had failed to perceive before. “ _Sorry_.” 

“No, _I’m_ _sorry_ for being rude. I didn’t mean to snap.” She gave Gaila an apologetic smile as she removed her earrings. “The sophomores’ advanced phonology exam was atrocious.”

“Well, if you’re being sorry, _I guess_ we’re even.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Her roommate flashed her the sweetest smile she could muster. “Dave just messaged. Aaaaand I invited him over.”

“ _What?!_ ” 

“Ny, you know I love you and you’re the best roommate I could ever ask for!” Gaila turned to a different strategy when Nyota crossed her arms, nose flared. “Pleaaaase? I haven’t seen him since Saturday night and you have no idea how hard it was to focus in my classes when all I could think of is--”

Nyota cut her off with an outstretched hand. “Right. Don’t even. Just . . . don’t.” She put back on her boots and added, “Fine. I’ll hang out in the library. But can you be done in two hours?”

Gaila’s sly grin made her regret saying it. “ _Of course._ More than enough time for cuddles.” 

She grinned despite herself and grabbed a jacket from the closet. “And _don’t_ even think about using my bed.” Her green roommate uttered an oath that she would not. 

The campus library was a four storey building located just beside the main cafeteria. It was an undisputed fact that the view from the library’s third and top floor was the best place to view the Golden Gate Bridge and cityscape. She deposited her bag at her usual table by the window and remembered how she spent plenty of homesick hours on that very seat looking out at San Francisco while dreaming of her town in Nairobi.

The impulse to call home gripped her chest, and Nyota grabbed her PADD. At 1948 hours, it was almost 0600 at home. She doubted Maisha would be awake but her mother should be in the kitchen either preparing a simple breakfast or taking advantage of the silence to spend a few minutes alone. She passed through the doors leading to the balcony and dialed her mom’s number for a voice call.

At the third ring, Amani Uhura picked up. 

“ _Nyota?_ ”

“ _Habari za asubuhi_ , Mama.” She greeted, smiling ear to ear. “Are you having your tea?”

A laugh echoed in her ears and filled her with longing. “You know me too well, _binti_.” 

“I do. It’s a habit I learned from you. How’s everything? I’m at the library and suddenly missed home . . .”

They catched up on recent events such as Maisha’s team making it to the regional debate contest preliminaries, her mother’s expanding vegetable garden and gossip about childhood friends she hadn’t seen in years. 

“And how are you?”

“Good,” Nyota mumbled. “We just finished our midterms. The workload is more intense than last term and on top of that, I’ll need to really think about my senior thesis.” 

There was a pause from the other line. Her mama generally did not inquire about her studies. Starfleet was not a topic Amani would not bring up, not voluntarily anyway. Their past feud still had a hold on the woman. “You know Keith moved to London to study medicine,” Amani finally said, voice suddenly upbeat. “Have you two been in touch?” 

“No, mama, we haven’t. I really haven’t talked to him since we broke up for good.” It was her mom’s way of saying she should, given that she had passive-aggressively asked her just before summer vacation ended. Nyota knew her mom found her first boyfriend charming. He was local, from a respectable background, and his mom was not just part of the same yoga studio her mom frequented, the two women had been friends since their university days. Her and Keith’s split hurt their parents as much as it hurt them, but Nyota knew it was for the best. They just wanted different things. He wanted her with him. She wanted Starfleet. “It’s great that he’s pursuing medicine,” Nyota said. 

“London has excellent opportunities for linguistics majors, Nyota.”

Nyota mentally groaned. If she allowed the conversation to continue, they would be rehashing the same old arguments. Her mom and her ex essentially had the same desire which is for her to stay on Earth and away from anything that could whisk her off-planet. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mama. How’s Maisha doing? Is she still set on a pre-law course?” She waited with bated breath for her mother to accept the topic shift and released a deep sigh of relief when the woman answered, _she is_. 

Nyota heard the sound of the pan hitting the stove top and remembered how she loved watching her mother preparing meals for the family as a little girl. “Mama, I know I was just there for the summer but I miss your githeri already.” 

She could imagine Amani‘s small smice. “I already sent you the recipe.” 

“The replicator can’t make it taste the same,” she insisted with a pout. 

“You come home for winter break and I’ll make it as often as you like.” 

Nyota smiled. “Deal. How is--” She was interrupted by the sudden intrusion of her sister’s voice that still sounded half asleep. _Who are you talking to? Your sister,_ Amani responded. She heard the shuffling sound of slippers approaching and imagined Maisha rushing to steal her mother’s PADD from the kitchen counter. 

“And _now_ you remember you have a family?” Maisha let out a dramatic groan. “Hey, my group made it to the regional debate, did mama tell you?” 

“Yes, congratulations.” She heard more sounds of feet stomping, probably away from the kitchen. 

“Anything new and interesting with you?” 

“Aside from the usual grind, nope. Though I am doing some assistant work for Commander Spock, my former instructor.” 

“Commander _what?_ What kind is he?” 

“ _Spock_.” Nyota covertly looked around, relieved to be alone. She continued in a lower voice. “He’s Vulcan.” 

Maisha sounded generally uninterested in her additional role but particularly interested in the instructor. “Is he young and cute?” 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to judge a book by its cover?” 

“So he’s old and ugly.” 

Nyota rolled her eyes but conceded. “No, he’s only a few years older. He’s . . . not ugly.” 

She remembered the way he would look at her after she did or said something that he must have found bewildering. His right brow would rise and there would be a flicker of emotion on his face so quick she could only barely catch it. The expression was subtle but spoke volumes for him. It was kind of cute. 

“What does he teach?” 

Nyota went on to explain about Commander Spock’s communications classes, snippets of their more casual conversations and even the time she got harassed by Cadet Santiago, something she didn’t tell Gaila. After that, it was easy to spill the story of the other asshole she’d met at a bar and how it had been Commander Spock who had called a cab for her that night.

“You know, Ny, that Commander Spock really doesn’t sound all that Vulcan. Are you sure he’s one? As in, complete with the bangs and slanted brows?” 

Nyota confirmed the fact but she understood why Maisha sounded skeptical. Commander Spock definitely looked Vulcan, but there was something about him that stood apart, granted that she didn’t know enough Vulcans to say so with absolute certainty. It remained a gut feeling. 

His ability to exhibit thoughtfulness still managed to surprise _her_ , like when he held out the door for her after hailing her cab or when he’d adjust thermostat to a temperature that would suit her; or add something connected to a comment she made in a previous week’s conversation that only showed how well he listened and retained the information she told him. She simply didn’t expect it of him. 

“I guess we both bought into a stereotype that Vulcans are unfeeling robots,” she finally muttered, though the conclusion was more meant for herself than her sister. Maybe logic eliminated male ego. And his exceptionally good memory made it reasonable for him to remember her favorite book. 

“Ny? Ny, are you still there? I gotta go and get ready for school,” Maisha said. 

“What?” She glanced at the time and realized they’d been talking for an hour. “But I haven’t heard anything new about you! Have you met any smart, cute boys?” 

Maisha laughed. “Ny, I’m in _high school_. To be honest, your Vulcan Commander sounds so much better than all the boys in my batch.” 

“He’s not my--”

“Gotta go, bye! Love you!” 

By the time she was able to return her _I love you_ , the line was already dead. Nyota inhaled the cool air and snuggled into her jacket. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like studying. In a few minutes she could return to her dorm so it was impractical to begin with her readings. The light from the mess hall attracted her. The night was chilly and having a cup of something warm held a strong appeal.

She was second in line at her favored tea stall when her PADD _pinged._

_Cadet Uhura, kindly report to my office at 0915 hours tomorrow._

Nyota blinked after reading the name of the sender. Commander Eva Ramirez, the dean of the communications department. 

“Miss, what can I get you?” 

“Huh? Oh--” Nyota took a step forward toward the attendant and handed over her ID card. “A hot, tall Moroccan mint tea latte.” 

“Sure thing. Will you have it to go or for here?” 

“To go please.” While the transaction took place, Nyota racked her brains for a reason for the meeting but nothing came to mind. Was she in trouble? She was never called in before. The idea that she might have messed up somehow appeared in her head only for her to shoo it away. It wouldn’t serve her to spend the rest of the evening wondering about it. It would be, as her former Vulcan instructor would say, an inefficient use of time and therefore _illogical_. The only way to know would be to simply show up as ordered. Having an imaginary Commander talk sense in her mind tickled her and she was grinning as she accepted her beverage. 

“Hey, you forgot your card.” 

Nyota turned back, the smile still on her lips. She barely registered what the guy behind her said but she immediately recognized that he was in her batch. Cadet Mark Bradley, command track student specializing in Advanced Tactics which was arguably one of the hardest courses in the academy, rumored to be 5th in their batch.. She had heard about his talent before but they didn’t hang around the same crowd. 

The man held out the card for her. “Oh, right. Thanks.” 

“Is your drink any good?” 

She vaguely recalled Gaila inviting her to his party at the start of term, but she had bailed out on that to unpack. Now that she knew what he looked like up close with his brown cropped hair and light blue eyes, she kind of understood the hype surrounding the wonder guy. He was like a more decent version of the insufferable James Kirk. He was also still in uniform which made her feel suddenly conscious of her oversized jacket and black leggings. 

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites.” 

The man grinned, and she turned to go. Just before he was out of earshot, Nyota heard him say that he’d like the same order. 

* * *

At 0910 the next day, Nyota was already waiting outside the Commander Ramirez’s office in her formal jacket. She held her standard issued hat in her left hand and felt, for a moment, as if she was under the cross examination of a court martial rather than a meeting with her dean. When it was signalled that she may enter the office, Nyota took deep breaths and strode in. 

Commander Ramirez sat behind her table pouring over a few papers. The woman has been dean of the communications department for a little over a decade. Nyota has read her research on subspace frequency amplification and it was a technique that was now in her books and being used aboard all starships. 

The woman regarded her with a warm smile. “Cadet Uhura, at ease.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” she responded. 

“I asked to meet you to explain in person,” the woman began. “Come and sit.”

When the Cadet complied, she continued. “I’ve received an email from the chair of the Federation’s Social and Cultural Committee concerning the launch of a program that would celebrate and promote specie diversity, starting here in our city. The program will be spearheaded by a few Federation ambassadors’ partners. I believe the event is scheduled for Friday and is expected to last throughout the weekend. Cadet, I have been asked to send at least one representative for our department and I think you’re well qualified for it.” 

Nyota blinked. “Thank you for your consideration, ma’am. It sounds like a wonderful project.”

Commander Ramirez nodded. “Old tensions have been flaring up again and some anti-Federation activists have been spreading misinformation concerning our--to quote--”alien friends” in less diversified communities. This project is of some importance to the Federation and has been approved by Admiral Barnett. I believe you will be asked to speak to students.” She looked at her PADD and added, “You are to report to the Vulcan Embassy tomorrow for orientation with the Ambassador’s wife at 1600. The event begins the day after tomorrow. I checked with your schedule and will inform your instructors that you are excused from all academic obligations for the week.” 

“I’m Commander Spock’s TA and I do actually have a student consultation scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, Ma’am. I’ll reschedule it,” Nyota informed. 

“Ah, yes. I’ll message Commander Spock regarding this project that could coincide with your duties as his aide. I’m sure he of all people would be understanding of the situation.” The dean offered her another smile. “That will be all. You are dismissed, Cadet, and thank you for accepting this at such short notice.” 

_Commander Spock of all people?_ Nyota gave a bow and left the office. She allowed herself to breathe easily in the turbolift, glad that contrary to her fear that she was in trouble, she was deemed worthy to represent the academy on a diplomatic project. 

She fished out her PADD from her bag and typed a reschedule request for tomorrow’s consultation. After that, she messaged Commander Spock a summary of her assignment. It only dawned on her after she sent her message as to why the dean mentioned that the Commander _of all people_ would understand. She’d stumbled across the fact before--Commander Spock was the son of Vulcan’s Ambassador to Earth. Which meant since she was asked to meet with the Ambassador’s wife, she would be, essentially, meeting his _mother_. 

Nyota checked on her PADD only to remember that the Commander was still in a lecture. He responded roughly after two hours in a typical manner that did not betray any sentiment over her prospective meeting with his parent. 

_This has been noted._

She had never been to the Vulcan embassy but had come across it several times from her walks downtown. It was right on a main road beside tall, sleek financial buildings. The embassy’s exterior set it apart from its predominantly glass shelled neighbors with four storeys made of pure Vulcan rock that looked similar to the local Travertine stone. The architecture was also distinctly Vulcan with its arrowhead columns and desert shrub landscaping. 

She was asked to sit by a human receptionist and, in the process of waiting, soaked in the cultural richness of the venue. Art paintings hung on the walls and sculptures of whom she guessed to be venerated Vulcan teachers circled the walls of the atrium. The building was quiet even with on going consular activities and found it comparable to the silence in Commander Spock’s office. 

Several other starfleet officers and four other senior cadets waited with her but none of them spoke in a voice louder than a whisper in fear of breaking the near-reverent silence.

“The Ambassador’s wife will all see you now.” 

Their party was escorted up a turbo lift in two batches and they arrived at a handsome sitting room. She noticed the beautifully hand crafted rug and a clay tea set at the center table. 

A human woman dressed in Vulcan attire entered the room. On her head was a maroon scarf and the distinct pads of her tunic added a boxy structure to her attire. Her dress had some delicate gold embroidery at the cuffs and the collar. 

She greeted them with a Vulcan salute. 

“Hello, thank you all for coming. Do sit down and let’s all have some tea to get started.”

Nyota looked at her peers to see if they were as confused as she was. She was under the impression that the Vulcan Ambassador’s wife herself would be meeting with them, not her human secretary. Was there a sudden change of plans?

She sat as instructed and held the clay cup to her lips. The tea was identical to Commander Spock’s brew. 

“You all look a little bewildered, and I don’t blame you,” the woman said with a charming smile. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Amanda Grayson, wife of the honorable Sarek. And least you doubt what your eyes are telling you, yes, I am human. In fact I’m a bay area native, so be at ease, please.” 

_Amanda Grayson._

Her mind was in so much shock that Nyota forgot about the tea cup she held, hovering under her chin. 

It suddenly made sense. The affectionate display Gaila witnessed. The message that hinted at a long distance relationship. The intimate dinner for two. Gaila reported the woman she spied on to be older as well. 

She was his _mother_. 

Nyota didn’t know whether to laugh or to be irritated at herself for assuming it was anything more than it was. Commander Spock had simply dined out with his mother. His _human_ mother. 

Therein lay the most surprising fact.

Commander Spock was _half human_. 

* * *

Note: This chapter introduces some new original characters, a small backstory for Nyota, and hopefully some verrry slowww development of feelings. More than a _how it began_ story, I want to focus on the journey Nyota and Spock would take toward eventually choosing to be together so it will be a long winding road ahead! 

PS. Maisha is also in my older fic _The Space Between._ She’s my second Gaila because one simply isn’t enough! 


	9. A Pair of Rebels

The information of Commander Spock’s half human heritage was definitely not on his public file. There was also no mention of the Ambassador’s wife being human. Nyota heard Amanda’s accent and knew right off the bat that she was locally North American. 

“Thank you for participating at such short notice,” the woman began, “I came into the planning committee rather late and it was my suggestion to involve young officers and students such as yourselves in our school tours along with other Federation speakers and local influencers.” 

At Amanda’s command, an assistant projected a holo screen above the table and distributed a pamphlet labelled Project CommUNITY that detailed the weeklong program organized by the diplomatic team. “We will be assigning you all to at least three schools over the course of three days where you will be tasked to give speeches and activities for children and youths to promote our message of diversity and cooperation. Each school might have a slightly different set up as it is the school faculty who is handling the ground work, but it should be a festive affair for the local community. As members of Starfleet, I am confident that you all have something valuable to add to this important conversation.” 

A short series of questions followed from a few of her peers, but Nyota was too distracted by the Ambassador’s wife to really pay attention. Upon close inspection, she could see some features the woman shared with Commander Spock such as her eyes and chin. But unlike the commander’s, her eyes were open and warm with emotion.

“Are there any other concerns?” When the woman looked her way, Nyota dropped her gaze quickly to her tea. Soon after, Amanda excused herself from the party and turned over the meeting to her assistant Janice who then began to assign them to schools. They were instructed to report to assignment at 0830 hours tomorrow and were then dismissed. Through the shuttle journey back to campus, Nyota’s thoughts lingered on Amanda and the implications of Commander Spock’s being half human. 

What kind of a woman would marry a full blooded Vulcan? Amanda appeared to have assimilated with Vulcan fashion well enough but she didn’t hesitate to make them all feel welcome, a human trait of hospitality. Nyota bit on her lip to stop a smile. She couldn’t wait to see the crestfallen look on Gaila’s face once informed that the mysterious date she had spied on and whom she was  _ dying _ to know was in fact the Commander’s mother and that the dinner wasn’t her imagined discreet romantic liaison. Now the mystery was cleared, Gaila would finally stop badgering her about it. She felt relieved. 

* * *

  
Being involved in the community project brought Nyota a joy she didn’t expect. On her first day she was assigned to speak to a group of 3rd and 4th graders from a community that was notoriously against welcoming off planeteers into their neighborhood. She prepared an engaging talk discussing the common misconceptions they might have heard about species who are different from them. Nyota had plenty of help from the teachers in facilitating games meant to promote empathy. And just before snack time, she taught the kids basic words in Vulcan, Andorian and Trill for which they got a prize should they use it correctly. 

Her second day was in a different school district and this time targeted high schoolers. She prepared a brief talk about her motivation to join Starfleet, her personal goals, and what she believed the Federation stood for as well as its importance to the galactic quadrant. Her talk was followed by a group activity wherein she created breakout groups for the youths to continue discussions on how they, as a community, can improve species to species engagement, cultural sensitivity and awareness. Nyota particularly liked talking with the young girls. It was easy to imagine Maisha being among the audience. 

On her last day of school touring, she was assigned to 5th and 6th graders and she patterned the program similarly with her first day. A short talk on herself, what xenolinguistics was about and what she was aiming to contribute to society by specializing in languages. The kids were particularly enraptured when she spoke four consecutive sentences, each in a different language: English, Spanish, Vulcan and Andorian. 

When she asked who understood her when she spoke in English, everyone in the class raised their hands. When she asked the same for Spanish, a select few raised their hands. No one knew any Vulcan or Andorian except for the only Andorian child in the room.

“But language makes you feel like you’re a part of something,” she explained. “When I spoke in English, you all understood what I said. And when I spoke Spanish, I can sense some form of  _ pride _ in those who raised their hands, kind of like getting in on a secret. Maybe your mom and dad taught you Spanish. Maybe your grandparents did--but either way they taught you because they want it to be a part of you. It is your heritage.

I like learning languages because it allows me to understand more people and individuals. It forms a bridge between myself and others. If I didn’t know Andorian, I wouldn’t know how funny they are. Like,  _ seriously _ , they have some of the best jokes I’ve heard.” Nyota surveyed the curious faces whose attention she held. “And if I didn’t know  _ Vulkhansu _ , I would be completely unaware how polite they are to their elders or how important community is to them. When a Vulcan meets another Vulcan on Earth or in any place that is not their home planet they would say: p _ lease send my respect to our people  _ as a form of greeting. In our world, we just say  _ how ya doin’?!”  _

Giggles erupted in the auditorium and Nyota grinned. 

“So I love languages because it helps me understand. We as humans like to know, and we tend to fear that and who we do not understand. We just don’t like different. So we call them names, push them aside. For Vulcans, we call them pointy ears, unfeeling robots, elves, goblins, cold blooded devils. For Andorians, we call them blue ogres. And we forget that they too have feelings--yes, even Vulcans can feel hurt and lonely and angry. Remember what that feels like?  _ Yeah _ , it’s not a good feeling.

At Starfleet, I can stand next to a Vulcan and appreciate how his intelligence can actually save hundreds of lives, mine included. And I can dine with an Andorian and realize we both like fried chicken and hate maths.”

Another round of snickers echoed in the room. 

“So be kind to others, especially those who are different from you. Don’t be scared to get to know them. You are all so young. One day you’d get to this point where you need to choose what you want to do with your life. When the day comes, whatever it is you choose, I hope you can live a life that will make not just our world better, but that of our galaxy.” 

After the applause, she turned over the stage to a teacher who would lead a round of games. The students were encouraged to learn the standard greeting in at least 3 Earth languages and 3 off planet languages. Nyota facilitated a few groups to correct their pronunciations and had a lot of laughs along the way. When she reached the back end of the podium, she saw the Ambassador’s wife standing by the door with her secretary wearing an expression of gratitude. She wore an elegant embroidered dove gray dress under a patterned robe that matched the deep blue of her headscarf. 

“M-Ma’am, I didn’t know you’d be here.” 

“I’m particularly attached to this school. The principal’s an old friend so I thought I’d drop by.” Nyota caught the woman eyeing her name tag. “I heard the talk. You spoke beautifully and your  _ Vuhlkansu _ is remarkable.” 

She wasn’t usually shy about her talent, but Nyota blushed to hear praise coming from such an admired personage. “Thank you. I really enjoyed myself the last three days.” 

“Miss Uhura, your talent is as good as I’ve heard. I believe you are Spock’s TA? He spoke very highly of you.”

Commander Spock discussed her with  _ his mother _ ? Nyota felt more flattered than she’d ever been in her life. “I am honored, ma’am. Commander Spock is such an esteemed member of the faculty. He’s one of the best instructors I’ve ever had.” 

Amanda chuckled. “As a mother, it pleases me to hear it.” 

A sudden burst of laughter came from the group in front. Nyota smiled. “I should get back and check on the kids’ new vocabulary. It’s great that you dropped by.” 

“Miss Uhura--Nyota-- I was wondering if you would like to have coffee with me after this event? I lived around this area before and know a nice cafe.” When Nyota didn’t respond immediately, she stammered, “I hope I’m not being too weird.” 

“Oh, no! Absolutely not,” Nyota insisted. “I’d love to. In fact, I’m so honored you asked!” 

Amanda laughed and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I still have matters to discuss with the principal, but I think we should finish around the same time.” 

They met at the school gate by agreement. Nyota observed as Amanda Grayson surrendered her blue robe to Janice before dismissing her secretary. She unclipped the scarf from her head and neatly tucked it into her purse, revealing brown hair cut short above her shoulders that ended with a slight wave. Clad in only her gray dress, she looked younger and perfectly comfortable. The woman was no longer a diplomat’s wife but just another person craving a cup of joe. “Shall we go?” 

The cafe Amanda wanted to visit was apparently some sort of district institution favored by the locals. It had a checkered tiled floor, tall mismatched window frames, and a perfectly suitable name:  _ Neighbor’s Space _ . Nyota loved the smell of pastries and coffee blending together. They found a table for two outdoors. 

“I’ll order for us,” Amanda said. Nyota was about to stutter a protest but was silenced by the woman’s soft laugh. “Nyota--I hope you don’t mind me calling you that--but I simply cannot let a student pay. It’s undignified. Is there anything you’d like?” 

“I’ll go with whatever you choose.” 

“Alright.” 

Nyota guarded their table, trying to ignore how awkward and weird it felt to be having coffee with Commander Spock’s  _ mother.  _ As a diplomat Amanda must have dined with Presidents and with Federation-allied heads of state. She must have discussed matters of much importance. And here she was ordering a drink for a cadet, seemingly excited to have a chat with her.

Amanda returned a few minutes later carrying a tray of two mugs and a plate of pastries. Nyota cleared the table and helped transfer the plates and mugs onto the table. 

“I wasn’t sure if you consume dairy so I ordered a non-dairy cappuccino and some vegan pastries.” 

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

The woman sipped on her brew and _ moaned _ . “I always miss coffee when in Vulcan. Vulcans find the drink atrocious so it’s not easy to find it outside Terran territories.” She took another sip. “They tweaked the decors a bit. It didn’t look like this back when I still lived around here but the checkered tiles are the same as it was before.” 

“How long did you live in this neighborhood?”

“After college, I shared an apartment with a friend. The place looked like crap, but we chose the place because we liked the trees along the sidewalk and rent was thankfully affordable. 

Surprisingly, Nyota found this relatable and liked the woman even more. It was strange to be having coffee with the Vulcan Ambassador’s wife; yet Amanda’s easy going nature instantly made her feel comfortable. Her shoulders relaxed gradually aided by the beautiful feeling of drinking hot coffee al fresco. 

“I really liked what you mentioned earlier, about language being the medium of understanding. Your passion was so contagious it made me wish I had taken up a linguistics major.” 

“I’ve liked languages almost as long as I can remember,” Nyota replied. “It’s challenging to learn but also really rewarding when the rules and words you’ve learned just  _ clicks _ and you can start piecing it together and start expressing ideas with another person. What was your course of study, Ma’am?” 

“Do call me Amanda, please!” The woman laughed, and with a wink said, “At least for private conversations. My major wasn’t very exciting. I studied education. I was a primary school teacher for a few years before I met Sarek. I taught second or third graders at Redford Elementary--yes, that’s what I meant when I said I have an attachment to the school. The current principal used to be a fellow teacher.” 

“Coming back must have been nostalgic.” 

Amanda nodded in affirmation. “Different but still somewhat the same. Who taught you to speak  _ Vulkhansu _ ?” 

“I borrowed language PADDs from the city library and I downloaded  _ a lot _ of audio files,” Nyota confessed. “The materials were so limited that I had to contact Starfleet’s South African satellite office for access to Vulcan literature and language recordings. I used to listen to podcasts over the summer when I was in high school. I’d play it over and over again until everything stuck. It’s a beautiful language.” 

“It  _ is _ beautiful. It took me five years to learn it fluently so I admire your mastery at such a young age. You’re very diligent. When I was in high school, I was daydreaming about the hundred different ways I can meet my celebrity crush.” 

Nyota laughed and popped a slice of raspberry puff pastry into her mouth. Amanda went on with her reminiscing.

“I wasn’t even seriously interested in Starfleet. I had no interest in leaving Earth. Teaching children brought me joy and I thought it would be my career for life. But then things happened the way it did and now I jump from one planet to another, a very different life from what I imagined when I was your age. Have you always wanted to join Starfleet, Nyota?” 

She recalled her conversation with Sulu. “Yes. Since I was in high school, after I started learning  _ Vulkhansu _ with some success.” She looked down on her cup, also remembering the difficult conversations that took place in her family. “But my mom isn’t too keen on it. She wants me to stay here on Earth.” 

Amanda made a sympathetic sound. “She’s a mother. She wants you safe.”

“I know. But before my papa passed away, he told me to reach for the stars. It feels like some kind of prophecy that I got accepted into a full scholarship program for Starfleet Academy.” 

“I’m sorry to hear about your father.” 

It surprised Nyota that the information of her father’s passing had just slipped out of her tongue. She never really liked telling people about it, much less on a first meeting. There was something comforting about Amanda that made her drop her guard. 

“Letting go of one’s child often isn’t easy, even when it is necessary and logical. In Vulcan, when young boys and girls reach the age of seven they are qualified to attempt the  _ kahs-wan. _ It’s a traditional rite of passage that marks the shedding of childhood and the beginning of adulthood.”

“Vulcans can be considered adults at the age of  _ seven _ ?!” Nyota remembered watching plenty of cartoons at that age. 

Amanda nodded. “Vulcan children mature faster because of their grasp of logic, but adulthood is bestowed only after passing the  _ kahs-wan _ . Most children attempt it at eight to ten years of age, but  _ Spock _ .” The woman let out an exasperated smile. “Spock wanted to do it as soon as he turned seven! We had a long argument about it and it eventually became an argument between myself and Sarek.” 

“I never heard about  _ kahs-wan _ in my study of Vulkhansu.” 

“There’s no direct translation to our language and Vulcans do not use the word aside from the context of the rite. The word itself is deeply emotional, something like  _ the feeling of hardship _ . To complete the rite, a Vulcan child must survive ten days in the Vulcan wilderness without food or water.” 

Her chewed pastry almost went down the wrong way and Nyota coughed. 

“Yes,  _ exactly _ . I had agreed to raise Spock in the Vulcan way but when the time came, it was very difficult for me to let him go. I thought he wasn’t ready for it and I was so worried. The planet is harsh and the terrain unforgiving. Wild creatures roamed freely in the canyons. Spock, I believe, had something to prove.” 

Nyota had to remind herself that the Commander was well and alive at that very moment. “But he went through it okay.”

Amanda nodded. “He survived but it came at a cost. Spock had a pet handed over to him from his father that he was extremely fond of and it had followed him into the. I-chaya was fatally wounded trying to protect him from a wild creature and Spock had failed the  _ kahs-wan _ because he had to leave the forge to seek out a healer for I-Chaya.”

She could imagine a young Commander Spock  _ crying _ and it squeezed her heart.

“Spock attempted it a few months later, and he succeeded the second time still at the age of seven, far younger than his peers.” 

Nyota mentally debated whether to inquire about Commander Spock’s personal life. It can’t be denied that she was certainly  _ very _ curious. “You said he had something to prove.” 

Amanda took in a sharp breath of air. “Well, he’s half human, Nyota. He’s a child of two worlds--never fully Vulcan and never fully human. He will  _ always _ have something to prove.” 

The statement weighed heavily on Nyota and her coffee cooled in her hands. As if sensing the somber turn of conversation, Amanda swiftly changed course. “And you? Did you grow up here?” 

“No, I was born and raised in Nairobi, Kenya.” 

“So you left your family and your country to study in the Academy? How homesick did you get?” 

“ _ Very homesick,  _ like an 8.5 on a scale to 10. _ ”  _ Nyota grimaced at the memory. “But it got better. It almost always does. If you don’t mind my asking, Amanda, how was it like for you? I mean, you left Earth for  _ Vulcan _ .” 

Amanda bit into her Danish pastry. “It was _ hot _ ,” she said with a grin. “Vulcan is a desert planet with two suns and no moons so it’s practically a sauna. It took me a while to get used to the heat and the clothes that added ten years to anyone wearing it.” Nyota shared the woman’s humor. “Looking back, I almost can’t believe I did it,” Amanda confessed wistfully. “I was twenty eight when I met Sarek and, as cliche as it sounds, I fell in love with him slowly but certainly. When he proposed matrimony, I knew it would require me to leave my home and live among those who were not my kind. I did it anyway.” 

“I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been.” 

“It was  _ very _ difficult, but it helped that I respected the Vulcan way from the very beginning--their discipline, for one. Once I understood why logic is so important to them and accepted it, I stopped forcing them to act the way I wanted them to, in the way I thought was  _ humane _ .” Amanda drank her coffee. “I did like some of their customs like meditation and even their food. My first complaint was that the planet didn’t have ice cream!” 

They shared their favorite flavors and went on to discuss their favorite words and phrases in  _ Vulkhansu _ over nibbles of pastry and sips of coffee.   


When Spock arrived at the cafe he was perplexed to see his mother giggling and his teaching aide laughing into fits. Terran humor was not his forte but the presence of it often indicated enjoyment so his conclusion was that both his mother and Cadet Uhura were immensely enjoying each other’s company. 

He derived pleasure from both knowing and seeing the fact, but it did not mask his surprise to find Cadet Uhura present in the establishment. He hypothesized that the Cadet and his mother must have met at the same school for the CommUNITY program and that Amanda must have, for an unknown reason, invited the cadet for a post event socialization. 

His mother opted not to disclose the information that she was in the company of his aide. In fact, he himself did not know why he was summoned to the cafe when they could have more easily convened at the Ambassador's residence. 

Before making his presence known, he took approximately 4 seconds to appraise his aide. He had not seen her since Monday, 5 days ago. Adding the mid-term break he had offered, it illogically felt like a longer period than what it actually was. She was in uniform but without the jacket. The red sleeve of her undershirt was folded just past her elbows. 

His mother spotted him first from her vantage point and waved him over. 

“Mother,” he said simply, and turning to his aide, followed with another greeting. “Cadet Uhura.” 

“ _ Sir. _ ”  Her subtle movements to straighten her posture made him recall how students would scramble to attention in their seats the moment he walked into the lecture hall. 

“Spock, you’re early.” 

He raised a brow at Amanda. “Negative, mother, I am punctual. It is 1820.”

“It’s already that late?” Amanda verified the fact with her timepiece and gave the cadet a sheepish smile. “Nyota, Spock and I meant to have a home cooked dinner together. Would you care to join us?” 

Spock’s eyes darted to his mother who was now on an intimate first name term with his aide. Humans were fascinatingly adept in fostering bonds over beverages such as coffee and liquor. The cadet, however, expressed hesitation in accepting the offer. She met and held his gaze. It seemed to him that she was trying to convey a message, but as she didn’t speak, Spock was at a loss on what to say or do.

Finally, Cadet Uhura opened her mouth. “I don’t--”

“Nyota, please, I  _ insist _ ,” his mother said in a tone of masterful persuasion, “I haven’t had such a good time in a while. I hope you’d do us the honor of being our guest tonight.”

Spock recognized the dilemma of turning down an invitation twice offered. It could be misconstrued as rude. Amanda Grayson wielded her words powerfully. As expected, Nyota relented. 

He walked ahead of the two females and led them to the parked vehicle the Embassy had assigned as Amanda’s main means of transport for the duration of her stay on Earth. He took the passenger seat so as to not interrupt his mother and his aide’s chat. But gone was the banter he had walked in on. Cadet Uhura still responded appropriately, but her expression was curtailed. Perhaps his mother had made a social error in insisting she join them for dinner? 

They reached their destination in 22 minutes, accounting for a slight traffic build up along a main road. Amanda was an exuberant hostess, ushering Nyota inside the residence. Spock simply followed along as he grappled with the sliver of envy he felt over the ease in which her mother interacted with the cadet after only having gotten to know her that same day. 

“I’ll be making vegetable curry and Plomeek soup. Have you had it before, Nyota?” His mother asked while shedding her shoes and bag. 

“No, I haven’t,” the cadet answered, mirroring the actions of her hostess. Spock provided her with guest slippers. 

“I think you’d like it. Plomeek is a plant native to Vulcan. It’s closest counterpart would be our lentils. The texture is somewhat similar. I’ll get started with dinner--oh, there’s no need to help, dear.” This stopped Nyota on her tracks when she made a move to follow her hostess into the kitchen. Amanda smiled indulgently. “It’ll be quick. Please, make yourself at home!” 

When his mother disappeared behind the kitchen door, he heard the silence keenly and felt his aide’s eyes on him. When he turned to meet her gaze, she looked away as if it was some game he wasn’t familiar with.

Spock cleared his throat. “Cadet, I recall that we came into agreement to speak freely with each other. You are not at ease. Do you feel compelled by my mother to accept the dinner invitation?” 

“No! It’s-it’s not that.” she responded hastily in a low voice. Her eyes darted to the kitchen and back to him. “It’s just, all of _this--_ meeting your mother and dining in her house with _you_ feels _really--and I mean really--_ personal.” Nyota fumbled with her fingers. 

“You had also looked at me earlier when my mother issued her invitation, as if you were attempting to signal a message. Please clarify.”

Nyota recalled the moment after a few seconds of thought. “Oh.  _ That _ . I was trying to gauge if you wanted me to accept the invitation. I was looking for a  _ cue _ .” Remembering the sheer failure of that assessment suddenly made her grin. Commander Spock’s face gave  _ nothing _ away. “I wanted to know if it was alright with _ you  _ if I showed up to dinner, and I couldn’t just ask you with your mother there. I don’t want to intrude on your personal life, sir. I worry you’ll find it inappropriate.” 

She was, he now realized, being considerate. “I apologize, I do not understand visual cues well. But now that I know, I shall bear it in mind. My mother does not have guests frequently so I do believe she is genuinely pleased to have you dine with us tonight. Your presence on our table poses a degree of unfamiliarity that is naturally uncomfortable, but your presence is welcomed, Cadet. I hope you feel welcome in our company.”

It was in her mind but she couldn’t find the words to say that the circumstance felt like a  _ meet the parents  _ kind of  _ date _ . And  _ that _ was what made her especially awkward. Knowing Commander Spock was incapable of perceiving it as such, it infuriated her to be so bothered by it. She was clearly overthinking things and was envious of how calm he was about it. It was a benefit of Vulcan logic. Nyota thought it best to emulate the Commander and think about the dinner as it was: a meal with the Vulcan Ambassador’s wife and her son who happened to be an Academy instructor, no meanings attached.

“Thank you, sir. I’m grateful to be invited. I haven’t had a home cooked meal in  _ ages _ .” 

He lifted his brow at the exaggerated term just as the cadet continued. “I do feel like a bad guest though, showing up for dinner without bringing a gift for my host.” 

“Given the spontaneous nature of the invitation, your sentiment is unnecessary. However, if it will make you more comfortable, there is a wine shop just at the corner of the street,” he informed, becoming an ally to her cause.

Nyota perked up at the suggestion. “I’ll be right back.” 

In the interim of the cadet’s absence, Spock checked in on his mother. Amanda had two pots and a pan on the stove. She opened a tub of plomeek paste and scooped three spoonfuls of it onto simmering water. It was just like her to refuse the luxury of a house staff, a cook and a new model replicator.

“How may I assist you?” 

“You can make our guest comfortable,” the woman responded as a matter of factly. 

“My assistance would lend efficiency to your chore.” 

“Fine. Set the table.  _ Then _ make our guest comfortable.” 

He had just finished setting down the plates and cutleries on the table when Nyota returned with a bottle of white wine. He procured two wine glasses from the pantry and placed it on their side of the table. Without a word, the Cadet adjusted it to the spot just above the knife. 

_ Fascinating.  _

They stood on opposite ends. Spock gestured to her to take a seat and poured water into her glass. He told himself that it was the novelty of the experience that was making his pulse beat irregularly. 

“Was your participation in the community project satisfactory?” 

“It was. The goal of the project is something that really resonates with me, plus I really enjoyed interacting with the kids.” 

Spock was certain that statement was something he had never uttered in his life. He found the experience of being with children thoroughly uncomfortable. They were rowdy and impossibly emotional. She caught him off guard by laughing spontaneously. 

“I’m getting better in reading you, sir,” she teased. “And don’t worry, I _completely_ understand your sentiments. I babysat for a neighbor for extra pocket money when I was in high school and the meltdowns were _the_ _worst_.”

“I am not familiar with the term.” 

“A temper tantrum. It’s when a child, usually between the age of two to five, becomes so overwhelmed with negative emotions that they just lose all forms of self-control.” 

“The formative years of humans are often turbulent in emotional development. I believe it is only at the age of seven that a child is more able to consistently manage their emotions.” 

Nyota sipped on her water. “It depends on the temperament. Some children are predisposed to be more calm or aloof than others. Others are born more emotionally sensitive, and it just takes more work to figure out how to handle deep feelings.” 

She remembered her childhood and adolescence, about how she could, at times, feel so very deeply. She cried for a week when her first best friend moved to Johannesburg which, at six years old, felt like a whole country away. In her preteens, she expressed frustrations by staying silent and  _ sulking _ , being unable to talk about her feelings despite having the vocabulary for it. Minor criticisms wounded her, which made her only determined to avoid it--something she carried with her to the Academy. 

Amanda chose that moment to resurface from the kitchen. “Spock, some help please?” 

Despite being asked not to bother herself, Nyota assisted in bringing the food out into the dining room. Once their meal was properly set on the table, Amanda joined them. She spotted the wine tucked into an iced bucket immediately, and the cadet took the liberty of pouring them both a glass.

“Chardonnay is a good choice,” Amanda murmured after sampling a sip. She then gestured to the bowl of red broth. To Nyota, it looked like tomato soup but the scent hinted at a very different taste. “This is Plomeek soup.”

Nyota spooned the broth into her mouth and analyzed the taste. “I can taste the similarity with lentils. The redness comes from the plant?”

“No, it’s from redspice also native to Vulcan. The spice greatly adds to the flavor too and packs a mild heat.” 

She felt the Commander observing her covertly as she drank the soup. “I’ve never had a Vulcan dish before. I really like it. The spice reminds me of our own spices in Africa.” 

Once they cleared the soup and began with the main course which was an appetizing variety of vegetables swimming in a saffron colored curry sauce. She ladled a serving onto her bed of rice, and Amanda spoke. “So what were you two talking about before I came in?” 

“We broached on the topic of children’s temper tantrums,” Spock supplied. 

Amanda lit up and passed her a look that she can only describe as mischievous. “Speaking of tantrums, Nyota, would you care for a story about Spock’s tantrums when he was a child?” 

The Commander interjected before she could respond and spoke rather forcefully. “Mother, I fail to perceive how this information is relevant to Cadet Uhura.” 

If her eyes weren’t deceiving her, she’d say his skin looked slightly greenish. It was the most impressive reaction she had ever seen from the Commander and decided she liked the idea of teasing him if only for the satisfaction of seeing him flustered. 

“To wield that kind of information would give me quite a leverage among the faculty who would no doubt pay huge sums for the story. You can make me into a very rich woman.” 

Amanda giggled beside a stoic Spock. “On what basis do you suggest that my colleagues are interested in my private affairs?” 

Nyota bit on her lip and faced his mother. “Amanda, you probably don’t know this, but your son is the epitome of mystery and intelligence and it drives  _ plenty _ of females  _ crazy _ . And I doubt his fans are exclusive to females.” 

Spock blinked at the foreign term. “I am unaware and am doubtful of the scenario you just described.” 

His only known definition for fan was a cooling appliance, but judging from context clues he got the impression that fans consisted of a particular pool of people. His mother was thrilled with his new found popularity, though she plausibly could only be playing along with the Cadet’s hyperbole. His gaze alighted on his aide and it struck him again how pleasing she looked. Her uninhibited smile exponentially added to her charm. The sensation of attraction was something he had to carefully fold and tuck away as he resumed his meal. 

Amanda and Nyota dominated the conversation especially as more wine was imbibed. By the time they consumed the meal and the wine bottle was empty, Spock felt adequately acquainted with Nyota’s laugh and joyful social mannerisms. He noticed she was physically affectionate given that she had reached to touch his mother’s hand from across the table a total of three times for the duration of their dinner. The Cadet also didn’t hesitate to lean in for a parting embrace as the women said their farewells. 

The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on Spock who quietly watched the scene. 

“Thank you for coming, Nyota. Tonight was just lovely.” 

“Thank _ you  _ for inviting me into your home. It’s the best dinner I’ve had in a long time. And thank you as well for allowing me to participate in your project. It was an amazing experience,” Nyota gushed as she slipped on her uniform jacket.

Spock raised a brow. Countering gratitude with gratitude was another Terran social norm he was familiar with. By the time his mother thought to bid him farewell for the evening, he saw an emotion on her face that appeared to be sentimental. She squeezed his arm in their usual farewell ritual. “Good night, Spock. Take care on your way back to the academy.” 

“Good night, mother.” 

They walked down to the nearest shuttle stop in stride. Spock was aware that this would be the fourth time they would be returning to campus together and the second that they’ve dined together. 

“Your mother is wonderful, Commander,” his aide said. Her mood was still jovial despite that it was only the two of them. 

“I am aware of her many good qualities,” Spock answered. 

“It really surprised me when I first saw her at the Embassy. I . . . I didn’t expect her to be  _ human _ .” 

“Surprise is a common reaction.” He did not care to advertise his half human heritage but did not conceal it either. Some of his colleagues have discovered the fact and their reaction had been one of disbelief as well. He took it as a credit that surprise indicated they could not perceive his humanity through the Vulcan philosophy he chose to uphold. 

“But after the shock, it made sense. You have her eyes.”

He glanced at his aide’s smiling face and rationalized that insult was not intended. Any other Vulcan would have found the statement offensive, but, on the contrary, she seemed to mean it as something positive. 

“Cadet, over the course of our dinner, you used a term I am not familiar with. What is a  _ fan _ ?”

Nyota giggled and thought his confusion oddly adorable. “It’s short for fanatic, basically another word for admirer.” 

He had admirers? Spock brows furrowed even deeper. 

“Yes, Commander, I do believe you have some ardent secret admirers. I have a reliable source that says so--and no, I’m not simply teasing,” Her tone suggested otherwise, but he took her words at face value. He did not know how to respond. The subject warranted deeper reflection. 

“Cadet, as you have expressed pleasure in participating in a diplomatic project, have you considered the possibility of joining the Federation’s diplomatic corps? There is a prestigious and intensive training program that is offered yearly to only five candidates. I believe you can qualify after graduation.” 

Nyota uttered a  _ mmm _ sound that, to him, indicated contemplation. “That does sound like a good career path, but I have my heart set on a different posting.” 

Spock angled his face to look at her and met her gaze when she tilted her face towards his. “I wish to join the NCC-1701.” She must have perceived his curiosity as she rushed to add, “I know it’s ambitious given that this would be the new flagship and everyone will be vying for a spot, I’m sure. But that’s the goal, that’s what I want.” 

“It is an admirable goal, Cadet. Knowing your academic record, I would not say it is out of reach.” 

The prospect of working with her aboard the same starship was agreeable. He had inquired to satisfy the demanding desire to know her course trajectory. As he was already assigned aboard the Enterprise, the idea that their paths would diverge was a notion he found unpleasant. It was emotional, and Spock swore to deal with it during his evening meditation. 

“Thank you for that vote of confidence, Commander. It means a lot,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “And I believe your mother said you spoke highly of me.” 

“I merely relayed the facts of your performance. The credit is only due to your diligence.” Spock was reminded that his Vulcan physiology was capable of superior body heat regulation. When he saw her bury both hands into her uniform pockets, he thought to inquire: “Are you cold?” 

“A little bit, but I’m okay. The nights are getting a bit colder.” 

They stood at the stop, the next shuttle being due to arrive in 8 minutes. 

“Commander Spock, may I mirror your inquiry? I’ve always wondered, sir, why you opted to stay on as an instructor. I think with your credentials, you can practically choose your own posting.” 

Spock clasped his hands behind him. “I was encouraged to take up a teaching role by Captain Pike to acclimate myself in the skill of communicating with humans.” 

Nyota snickered. No wonder the Commander often asked for her assistance in decoding the mystery of human social nuances. He was running on orders. “I’d say you have improved greatly, sir.” 

True. The ease of their current communication was testament to her statement. 

“I am also teaching in the interim while the NCC-1701 is being constructed.” 

Nyota felt her jaw slack. “You got assigned to the Enterprise! That’s amazing! Congratulations!” 

Her expressions, Spock thought, were  _ fascinating _ . He opted not to remove his arm from her touch. He doubted she was conscious of her action, and he found that he did not mind her inclination for physical gestures. 

“Affirmative. I applied for the post of Chief Science Officer and was accepted by Captain Pike on the condition that I also serve as First Officer. The news is not yet official.”

The Cadet gabbed on about the prestige of being offered two posts. It was unprecedented in Federation history. “By the way, I’m excited not because I’m surprised--I mean, you are  _ so _ qualified and deserving of the post. Rather I’m happy for you, sir.” 

Another statement he did not know how to respond to, but her smile and admiration seemed to elicit a biological response in him. He felt his ears grow warm and he averted his gaze back to the shuttle schedule board. 2 more minutes.

“Sir, may I inquire about something more personal? You may choose, of course, not to answer. I won’t be offended.” 

He nodded his head. 

“Did you ever consider going into diplomacy yourself? Given that your father . . .” 

“Is Vulcan’s Ambassador to Earth,” he finished where she had trailed off. “It is a common assumption for sons to follow the path of their fathers especially when the role in question is prestigious. I have considered it and, to a degree, I was expected to enter the field.” He saw her listening intently. He usually opted to avoid sharing any information regarding his complicated relationship with his father, but the Cadet was proving to be a curious exception. 

“I chose an unconventional path to enroll at Starfleet academy. From then on, my path was to serve the Federation as a Starfleet officer at least for the near future. My father has not talked to me since.” 

Their shuttle arrived 32 seconds after schedule. When they boarded, they found the seats taken so they stood side by side facing the window. 

Nyota didn’t expect to hear his estrangement with the Ambassador Sarek. Apparently, strained father-son relationships can also be found in Vulcan families. It casted a more human light on him and found his independence to be relatable. 

“My mother also wasn’t happy when I joined the Academy,” she whispered, feeling honored that he trusted her with something so personal. “We’re a pair of rebels, aren’t we.” 

A curious rhetorical question. Spock never anticipated being called such. Vulcans were a peaceful species. He doubted he was qualified to be termed a revolutionary. More curious was the unsolicited information she revealed in return. Did human norms dictate relaying of private information to be transactional? 

“And I think it’s a fact that you would perform excellently in any role you turn your mind to, sir” Nyota added. 

As more people and two more Academy cadets boarded their shuttle, Spock stepped closer to his aide out of necessity to free up more space to accommodate the influx of passengers. Her shoulder was nearly touching his arm. He also became keenly aware of her right hand hanging by her side. Should he move his own hand by 3.4 inches, it would graze hers. Spock felt an almost overwhelming impulse to do so. 

The opportunity disappeared after the shuttle encountered a minor bump on the road and Nyota moved to grasp on a hand support rail to steady her balance. It was both a relief and a source of distress. Spock vowed to increase the frequency of his meditation to an almost daily practice and to lengthen each session for the simple purpose of containing his intense emotions. 


	10. Rumor Has It

When the NCC-1701 bridge crew list was released by the Federation Recruitment Board, it infiltrated almost every conversation in the faculty buildings and among cadets as well. Spock had received approximately 167 congratulatory statements from colleagues at the faculty building and Daystrom Institute, from former instructors, former students, as well as his superiors. Admiral Barnett commended him during his monthly meeting with the entire faculty staff. He had received several claps on the back from colleagues. His mother called to say how proud she was of him and berated him for not telling her sooner. The Vulcan Embassy sent a formal congratulatory note and a more personal holo video of the Foreign Secretary remarking on his achievement. Commander Ramirez sent him champagne which he only passed down to his teaching aide, much to the latter’s pleasure. 

He found the sudden swarm of attention disrupting. 

Cadet Uhura, despite knowing about his assignment for weeks, insisted he ought to celebrate the official posting. After considering further refusal to be futile, Spock conceded to an order of Masala Chai as his “reward”. On the fourth day since the announcement, he expected the excitement to mellow down. 

“Commander Spock!” 

Commander Berruti waved at him from the lounge area. “Ah! If it isn’t the star of the Academy!” he remarked with a laugh. 

Spock greeted them both a good morning just as Lieutenant Cruise and Lieutenant Jonathan Upton (instructor of helm navigation and bridge operations classes) came out of the pantry bearing their mugs. He extended the same courtesy greeting to both men. Upton extended a hand to which the Vulcan replied that he prefers not to engage in that manner of greeting. “Oh. Sorry,” the man said, hastily withdrawing his hand. “I didn’t have the chance to extend my congratulations, Commander, for your prestigious assignment on board the Enterprise.” 

Spock nodded and reciprocated with a simple “Thank you” as his aide had suggested. He remembered reading the man’s profile in Captain Pike’s shortlist of applicants for the bridge team. Upton applied for the position of alpha shift helmsman. 

“I mean, two senior positions of a constitution class starship awarded to one person has never been done before. Admiral Barnett is practically in love with you for bringing such an honor to the Academy,” Berruti said. If Spock was correct in his analysis, it was said mockingly or, at the very least, the man’s sincerity was questionable. 

Cruise continued. “Commander, your perfection is a model for us all, but we mortals find it impossible to achieve.” 

“Lieutenant, perfection does not and may very well never exist,” Spock pointed out. “My achievement is directly rooted in the quality of my efforts. Excellence is something I choose to strive for.” 

“Your ethos is certainly admirable, Commander.” Berruti brought his cup closer to his lips but hovered as he shrugged. “But even you must admit that your Vulcan physiology sets us humans at a disadvantage.”

The irony that he was considered a superior being by humans whereas Vulcans never failed to claim his disadvantage was not lost on him. Spock felt the familiar hot pulse of ire. “Vulcan physiology does give me the advantage in productivity as I can opt to reduce both sleep and nourishment without debilitating impact on my functioning. I can therefore concur with your statement.” He glanced at all three men. “However, I find your perspective narrow. My physiological superiority, as you claim, can only be a value to the Federation and by extension to all species within this organization, _including_ _humans_.” Spock raised a brow at their silence. “Gentlemen, thank you for your well wishes. If I may take my leave.” He bowed and stalked off before either of the men could add anything more to the conversation. He intersected with Dr. Sangha at the junction just past the lounge and walked towards the turbolift.

“I heard parts of the conversation,” the man confessed. 

“As it happened in a public space, it is not a private matter, doctor.” 

Sangha chuckled. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I like you. But now I do.” 

Spock took a quick side glance at his colleague. 

“Rumour has it that Berruti applied for the role of First Officer,” Sangha informed, “If you ask me, he should apply to go back to primary school where they can teach him how to be a good sport.” 

The doctor promptly stepped into the turbolift the moment it opened and missed the opportunity to catch the corners of Spock’s lips lift a centimeter higher. “Have you got any Thanksgiving plans, Commander?” The man took the liberty of pressing his floor number, Spock noted. He was on the 6th while the doctor’s office was on the 7th.

“Negative. Vulcans do not celebrate the holiday. Apart from a brief trip to the ship yards to personally observe the progress of NCC-1701, I have no other obligations.” Three seconds passed before he remembered to extend the courtesy of returning the question. “And yourself, Doctor?” 

Sangha chuckled. “I’m getting married. I’ve booked a transport schedule for London on the first day of break.” 

The man looked happy as he said it. Spock saw the marked shift in Sangha’s expression. His lips now bore a smile that softened his features significantly. 

“Congratulations. You seem very happy.” 

“Thank you, Commander. If you’re going to marry the love of your life, I’m sure even Vulcans would feel some form of happiness,” Sangha said with a raised hand for farewell when the lift opened to his floor. 

Spock saluted the man and stepped out into the hallway. The faculty building was more subdued, perhaps in anticipation of their upcoming 6 day leave. Thanksgiving was one of the  _ more _ logical holidays on the Terran calendar. It was setting aside time to be with family and loved ones and to practice the virtue of gratitude over a feast. The tradition had its roots from the autumn harvest feast shared by the Plymouth colonists and the native indians. In his opinion, the symbolic act of sharing a meal despite physical and cultural differences was a gesture that remained relevant. 

The silence of his office was an oasis, and in the quiet, he recalled the doctor’s parting words.  _ Love of his life?  _ Humans had the strangest phrases.

* * *

Nyota was exhausted. 

She had been logging in extra hours in the comms lab simulation rooms, listening to transmissions, translating distress calls and locating low band frequencies. The simulation was run by an AI named  _ Marconi _ who gave her random scenarios to work through. Gaila referred to  _ Marconi _ as her boyfriend just because they’d been spending so much time together. 

Thanksgiving break will definitely be a well deserved break and she intended to take full advantage of the time off classes to catch up with sleep and the books that had piled up in her PADD library. Gaila had been raving about a raunchy Orion romance novel last month that she promised to finally look into it. 

As she commenced shutdown protocol for her room, she thought about Maisha and her mother and how she wouldn’t be home for the break this year. Her mother would be working on a project out of town and Maisha would be busy training with her debate team. At least Gaila would be with her for the holidays. Maybe they could eat out and watch feel good cliche holo movies. When she left the comms lab, her PADD bombarded her with successive missed call notifications. 

She was still registering Gaila’s call records when her PADD vibrated again with an incoming call. 

“Hello?” 

“I called you five times!” 

“Sorry, I was in the simulation room and you know how calls get blocked. Besides, I was getting intimate with _ Marconi _ ,” Nyota said as a matter of factly with a grin. 

“I would actually be excited for you if it were with anyone other than  _ Marconi _ . Simulation room sex is  _ so _ exciting--”

“You’ve had  _ sex _ in simulation rooms?!” Nyota hissed. Two cadets in close proximity craned their neck to pass her judgmental looks.

“Uhuh, but we used one of command’s bridge rooms. It adds a special thrill. No, wait, that’s not why I’m calling.” Gaila paused for a few seconds and allowed her mind to refocus. “I found a party we can go to tonight.” 

Nyota groaned. Ever since Gaila entered their dorm a week and a half ago announcing with a shrug that she and Dave were officially “over”, she’d been on the prowl for the next party. “I was thinking of staying in.” 

“You have the entire break to stay in, Ny. It’s the last weekend before people start going home for Thanksgiving!” 

She made a non-committal sound as she stepped out of the communications building. It was only 1704 hours, but the sky was already pretty medley of twilight colors. 

“It’ll be at a nicer speakeasy--0214. Some Command Track juniors and seniors will be there. I’m bringing a friend. You can bring Sulu. C’mon, Nyota, just say yes!” 

“If Sulu says yes, then okay.” 

Her roommate scoffed and tuned up the dramatics. “You mean to say my presence isn’t enough?”

Nyota rolled her eyes despite that Gaila wasn’t there to witness it. “Gaila, if you have it your way, you won’t even be going back to the dorms with me.” 

“ _ Maybe _ you won’t be going back either--”

“I’ll call you back. Let me ask Sulu,” she said, crossing the quad on her way to the students dorms. Thankfully, Sulu picked up on the third ring. Unfortunately for her, he was down for a night out and even thought to bring his date. He also seemed to be completely fine with the idea of her third wheeling with them for the entire night, which she threatened to do should he agree to go out.

Gaila was already selecting her outfit for the night when she walked into their room. The Orion pouted her lips and practiced her best version of puppy dog eyes. 

“ _ Okay _ , let’s go out,” Nyota said, tossing her jacket at the laundry basket before heading to her closet. “You said the place is nice, right? We might as well have dinner somewhere close by that doesn’t serve replicator food.” She pulled out her skin tight black turtleneck and a soft chiffon black pencil skirt that reached her calves. 

“I’m loving the hot date look,” Gaila said, shimmying her hips into her navy dress. “Bradley will be in the bar, I heard.” 

“Is there a reason why you’re telling me that?”

“I overheard some guys talking about it in the gym locker rooms. Apparently, they heard from his friends that Bradley said you were the hottest girl in the batch. This was back at the start of term, but I have a feeling he still likes you.” 

Nyota cleaned her face and redid her make-up to a smokey eye. “So this is a  _ they heard what he heard what he said _ . That’s a  _ rumor _ , Gaila.” It flattered her nonetheless.

“He’s the total package, Ny. He’s intelligent, he’s nice and also pretty nice to look at.”

The mental image of Commander Spock sitting in deep concentration on his office table almost caused her to misapply her mascara. She told herself that she must think so highly of the Vulcan’s intelligence that she remembered him by mere association with the word  _ intelligent _ . And maybe  _ nice _ too. 

“You guys could produce genetically superior babies with high IQs. I bet he’d approach you tonight.” Nyota made a non-committal sound and swiped on plain moisturizer onto her lips. She was glad with her look and was starting to view the evening more optimistically. As she was putting on her camel colored coat, something overlooked clicked into place. “Wait, what were you doing in the male locker rooms?” 

Her roommate dabbed a special Orion perfume onto her wrist and on the skin in between her breasts. She bit her lip to refrain from grinning. “Doing warm up drills, of course.” 

* * *

Gaila was right. 0214 was a nicer place than their previous bar visits. Males wore long sleeved button downs and other species wore attires with equivalent formality. She also felt better to be in a more subdued venue for socialization. The low lighting casted a mellow mood without straining her eyes. 

Sulu and his boyfriend were already sitting on the bar stools with glasses of half drunk alcohol between them. Walking towards them, Nyota thought they looked cute together. “Hey,” Sulu greeted, getting off his chair. “Uhura, Gaila, this is Benedict Chang.”

“Nice to meet you both, call me Ben.” He stood up to shake their hands and Nyota noticed how tall and broad his shoulders were. The man was taller than Sulu by around four inches, roughly the height of Commander Spock.

Gaila whispered something about getting their drinks and headed to the section of the bar where the bartender was wiping four glasses with his eight pale gray limbs. 

“So, Uhura, what do you two study?” 

“Xenolinguistics for me and Orthotics and Prosthetics for Gaila,” Nyota replied with a smile. “Are you still studying?” 

Ben laughed. “I’m flattered you think I’m a student, but no, I work as a journalist for the Daily Star. It’s an old fashioned job.”

“Oh my god,  _ no _ ! It’s an  _ important _ job,” she corrected. “I follow you guys for local news. What’s the latest piece you‘ve written?”

Ben and Sulu shared a look. “Have you heard of the rally at city hall?” 

“Yeah.” The rally held two days ago was a trending topic in the Academy chat boards. Sulu pointed out that it was Ben who covered the news and Nyota could tell he was incredibly proud.

“Do you think it’s serious?” 

“Well, the organizers are very passionate about their grievances against the local government--and they are not alone,” Ben explained, “The protest has drawn in at least fifty disgruntled members of the public, all who aren’t happy with the increasing number of off planet immigrants to our area. They’ve toned down and dissipated for the upcoming holiday but I expect them to come back and grab more media attention. My boss just assigned more people to cover this story so I’m thinking it could well be serious.” 

“The organizer Donny Cowell was allegedly sacked from his job at a Federation transport technology facility and was replaced with an Andorian female, right?” Nyota made a point to follow the news because it was essentially an anti-Federation movement in the making. But while the news infuriated her, Commander Spock was quick to remind that the protest was 95% based on emotions and that it was better to view the event with more fact-based detachment. 

“Yeah, well, he was also  _ allegedly _ incompetent in his role,” Sulu interjected. 

The conversation tapered off naturally when Gaila returned with two glasses of gin and tonic, a tall blonde trailing behind her. “Hey guys, this is my fellow med cadet, Christine Chapel. She’s taking a fast track medical program with Starfleet Medical.

Another round of greetings occurred. Nyota studied the woman as Sulu took the initiative to welcome her into the group. Appearance-wise, she was tall and slim, with slightly wavy blonde mid-length hair and fringe bangs. Her baby blue eyes lent an angelic quality to features. Nyota was aware that hers was a look  _ plenty _ of guys would love. 

“ _ You’re _ Uhura! Gaila keeps on mentioning you that it’s great to finally meet you in person!” She extended a friendly hand and Nyota gladly shook it. 

Fast track programs were for licensed or practicing professionals who had the skill and experience but needed to take additional Federation mandated courses in order to qualify serving aboard a starship or starbase. Medical fast trackers were taken by certified physicians or medical researchers who wanted an opportunity to access off-planet opportunities. That meant Ms. Chapel was a few years older than them, but the age didn’t show in her features. If Nyota thought stress aged her to thirty, Chapel looked _at_ _most_ twenty two. 

“What program are you taking, Ms. Chapel?” 

“Nursing.” 

“But nursing would be more like a side job,” Gaila injected. “Christine’s more into medical research on human immunology. She graduated from Cambridge medical school two years ago. She was a student of Dr. Roger Kirby."

Nyota lit up. Even in the field of xenolinguistics, the famed archaeologist was esteemed for having spearheaded the project that translated ancient Orion scripts that turned out to carry invaluable medical information. Sulu looked equally impressed and explained the man’s credentials to Ben. 

“And guess who’s casually dating Dr. Korby,” Gaila said in a singing tune. 

“He’s off-planet for most parts of the year,” Chapel said. She looked abashed by the association so Nyota sought to steer the conversation back to the woman. 

“Are you considering a starship posting?” 

The blonde nodded. “It is a possibility. I’m also looking into the opportunity of joining a new colony both as a physician and medical researcher.” 

Movement in the other side of the room alerted them to the arrival of a new group. Nyota recognized a few familiar faces, among them Mark Bradley though she didn’t let her gaze linger. She wished Gaila never told her about the locker room rumour if only to avoid feeling self conscious. Christine must have also seen someone she knew as she excused herself from the group. 

Beside her, she sensed Gaila scanning the room for anyone who she might find interesting. The crowd had grown in the past few minutes and there were plenty more men to choose from. Nyota deliberately turned her back to the crowd and channeled her focus on Sulu, who said: “Before I forget, do you girls have plans for Thanksgiving?” 

“No, Gaila and I are staying put. Why?” 

Sulu smirked. “My aunt lives in San Jose and their family will be off to Hawaii for the holiday. She told me I can have some friends over for Thanksgiving. I’m thinking we can have an intimate lunch complete with turkey and all the trimmings.”

The idea of a traditional American Thanksgiving appealed to Nyota far better than another dining out experience for the holiday. She shared a look with Gaila who also looked thrilled. “Yeah, we’ll be there.” 

“And bring whatever you want. Ben offered to cook the turkey. Feel free to invite a plus one too.”

Gaila winked at the both of them before venturing to mingle with the other group of cadets. Nyota laughed. “Maybe Gaila would have more luck with that tonight.” 

Sulu raised his glass. “So cheers to the plan?” 

They toasted and consumed their tonic. In celebration of their upcoming holiday plan, Ben offered to get the next round of drinks. When the man was out of earshot, Nyota dug her elbow into Sulu’s arm with a pleased grin. 

“I like him already,” she announced, noticing the soft smile on his face. “He’s great, Sulu. You guys have been looking at each other all gross.” 

“Yeah, he is. Annoyingly nice sometimes too. He makes me look like a temperamental asshole.” 

When Ben returned with their second round of gin and tonics, a loud series of laughs erupted from the other table. Nyota accepted her drink with a mutter of thanks.

“Hey, Uhura, I know some guys over there that I can introduce you to,” Sulu whispered. 

“If you’re trying to get rid of me, it’s no use. I warned you I’d be third wheeling for the whole night.” She honestly felt too drained to socialize with new people. All she wanted to do was throw in a mineral clay mask and retire early like a grandma.

She missed Sulu’s response when her PADD suddenly vibrated in her purse, and a quick peek revealed it to be a message from Commander Spock. 

_ Cadet, will you be reporting to my office on Monday? _

He almost  _ never _ messaged her for anything, especially not so late at night. It was already past 2200 hours. She found the incident puzzling and decided to compose a response.

_ I can report to your office if you need me to do something?  _ She left the question mark after a few seconds of typing and deleting and typing it again. His response was immediate. 

_ As Thanksgiving break officially begins on Tuesday I am concerned that your  _ crassula ovata _ might suffer from neglect. If you shall be away over the course of the break, kindly offer instructions on how to care for this kind of flora. _

Nyota re-read the message again before breaking out into an ear to ear grin. She had conceived of three different scenarios in her head on what he might want her to do on Monday but none of it concerned her jade plant. She visualized Commander Spock researching the appropriate amount of water to pour onto the plant in precise milliliters and precise frequency. Nyota surreptitiously coughed to suppress a laugh. She considered telling him not to worry as she would be spending the break on campus, but a part of her wanted to tell him personally. 

_ Thank you for your concern, Commander. I’ll be there on Monday. _

She didn’t exactly have work to do, but maybe she can offer the Commander assistance for his other classes or another task. 

_ Acknowledged.  _

She tucked her PADD back into her purse and looked up to see Sulu eyeing her with a devilish smile. “ _ Now _ I understand why I don’t need to introduce you to anyone tonight. Who’s the guy?” 

“What?”

“The guy who sent the message,” Ben said, allying with his date on the conspiracy. “You had the kind of smile we all get when someone we like sends a message.”

When his meaning dawned on her, Nyota vehemently denied their suggestion with the explanation “That was just Commander Spock.” 

Sulu’s brows creased in confusion. “Uhura, you were smiling so wide that you were blinding me with your teeth. Was he telling a Vulcan joke or something?” 

“Well . . . not a joke exactly, but it was kind of funny,” she said rather lamely. It was easy to tell Sulu was not even halfway convinced by her explanation but luckily Gaila was beckoning them over. She had, it seemed, made new friends. To carry the conversation away from Commander Spock, Nyota forced herself to reverse her previous stand against socializing and they made their way over to join the rest of their peers. 

After a quick round of introductions, they were immediately drawn into a light conversation with a guy Sulu apparently had a few classes with. Nyota sipped her drink and stood quietly in the same tight circle while she mentally zoned in and out of the conversation. Her simulation earlier was tough and adding that to her study load for the day, she was wiped out. She didn’t even notice that the person beside her was no longer the male Trill named Jeven until the man directed a question only she could hear. . 

“What did you get?” 

She looked up past her shoulder and saw Bradley eyeing her near empty drink. The question reminded her of their run in at the cafeteria. 

“An old fashioned gin tonic,” she responded with some cheek. “Why, do you plan on ordering the same drink too?” 

He gave a laugh that hinted of a good sense of humor. “The Moroccan mint tea latte is now one of my favorites, I’m not gonna lie.” 

“I’m glad you like it.” Studying him at an even closer vantage point than at the cafeteria, she could see the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow on his jaw. His nose was sharp and made his features so much more striking. Even in the low light, his blue eyes were captivating. She can easily imagine him in the captain’s chair or taking a first officer position in the future. There was something about the way the guy held himself that made it plausible.

They casually exchanged updates on their current course load and her life in Nairobi as well as his life in Philadelphia. He was a more moderate figure than his peers, and when he spoke it was often well phrased and well considered. As their two-some conversation took on more depth, she appreciated how he wasn’t loud or the paragon of self confidence. Talking to him was surprisingly easy. 

Nyota was also quite aware that Gaila was watching them, possibly with bated breath, judging from the wink she gave her in the brief second their gaze met. When a pair of strangers pushed past him from behind to get to the bar, Bradley shifted his position to stand even closer to her. 

“Can I get you another gin and tonic, Uhura?” 

“Thank you,” she replied after a short pause, “but  _ no thank you _ . I’ll get it.” 

Bradley’s brows rose but his eyes were kind and he gave her an understanding smile. Nyota found him incredibly attractive at that moment, only it wasn’t enough to compel her to return his advances. She didn’t exactly understand why she was holding back except for a gut feeling that told her it wasn’t right. 

When she returned with her drink and rejoined her group, she noticed a small circle of the command track students were discussing something in a low voice at a distance that was out hearing range for an average person. Nyota thought all the time she was spending in the comms lab listening for subspace frequencies must be paying off because even factoring in the decibel of noise in the room, she was able to discern the phrase  _ that Vulcan Commander  _ and recognize the unfavorable tone that came with it. 

Gaila, who was closer to the group than she was, was eyeballing her as if to tell her not to get upset and immediately understood what the guys were talking about: Commander Spock’s assignment. It had caused a sensation on campus when the news was released. Many praised him for the accomplishment and admired him with good humored envy. Others, however, were ungenerous with their opinion on the decision. Command track students had more of a say in that regard and she’d been hearing whispers about it for the past four days. 

_ The fact that Commander Spock is Vulcan placed other human applicants at a disadvantage.  _

_ It shouldn’t be allowed for one person to hold two positions.  _

_ The Federation had plans to accept more Vulcans into the fleet since the salary of one Vulcan doing the job of two people was slightly less than the cost of two individual salaries.  _

_ The appointment was a diplomatic strategy to appease the Vulcan high council who was about to turn against the Federation. _

The rumor mill had been hard at work. The cadets, in particular, were talking about the latest conspiracy that the Vulcan had somehow manipulated Captain Pike with his telepathic abilities. She could only hear snippets of words and short phrases, but it was incriminating enough to warrant action. Nyota handed her drink to Sulu and marched over, eyes flared and lips drawn to a thin line. 

“Hey guys, I don’t mean to butt into the conversation, but do any of you  _ actually _ know Commander Spock?” 

The Cadet named Brian looked confused. “What? Well, no--”

“That explains it,” she said, cutting him off with strained calm, “because if you do, you’d know that he works harder than anyone else and is 100% deserving of this honor regardless of _ anything _ . Vulcans value honor and honesty. Commander Spock wouldn’t even dignify the idea of pulling strings just so he can get ahead, so don’t discredit him with that kind of slander. He works for the progress of the United Federation of Planets, just as we all should, so I for one think he is an  _ exemplary _ being who deserves his posting on our new flagship.”

Nyota gave them all a parting glare and calmly strode back to her place beside Sulu who greeted her return with an expression of approval and handed her back her glass. Nyota took two gulps to help placate her temper. She noted Bradley’s apologetic look before he turned to talk to the guys. From the look of it, he seemed to be reinforcing her statement in his own way. 

Gaila and Chapel re-grouped with her following the incident, which apparently made an impact on the blonde. 

“That was very well said, Uhura!” 

“It’s only true,” Nyota said, deflecting the praise, and still very much irritated. She thought about leaving soon. 

“And you said it perfectly. Commander Spock is honorable and intelligent. I’m glad you stuck up for him the way you did,” the woman confessed, tucking her blonde locks behind her ear.

Sulu voiced out the question forming in her mind. “You know Commander Spock? I didn’t know he taught medical courses.”

Gaila offered to explain. “He doesn’t. But he attended the lecture of Dr. Saitoshi and Dr. Cooper on the topic of cell regeneration which was required for all med cadets last term. His questions extended the lecture for at least half an hour.” 

She didn’t know about that, but the Commander’s interest in the medical field didn’t surprise her. Nyota knew he had an incredibly wide scope of interest and was dedicated to widening his knowledge whenever there was an opportunity to do so.

“He was so articulate in his questions that even the lecturers were taken off guard by the depth of his insights,” Chapel said. “I’ve been following Commander Spock’s work ever since, including his publishings as a junior member of the Daystrom Institute.” 

“Nyota is actually his teaching aide,” Gaila chirped. 

Nyota tried to downplay the role if only to calm down Chapel’s overexcited reaction. “I was surprised he offered me the job, but I’m only his TA because he needed to get one.”

The blonde followed up with questions that made Nyota uncomfortable.  _ What is he like? Does he discuss his research? What is he interested in at the moment?  _ It was in the tone Chapel used when talking about the Vulcan as well as her use of adjectives. It was too  _ fawning _ .

Thankfully, Gaila pulled her aside after a few questions. “I forgot to tell you, I think Christine’s got a  _ bit _ of a crush on your Vulcan Commander.” 

“Yeah, I was wondering if I was the only one getting that vibe. I thought she’s dating Korby?” Nyota whispered. 

“Well, maybe she’s keeping her options open!” her roommate whispered back, “If I were her, I’d dump that archaeologist for not being on the planet for most of the year. I mean,  _ clearly _ she is not getting some. Who knows, maybe our favorite Vulcan has a thing for blondes with blue eyes.” 

“ _ I don’t think so. _ ” 

Gaila shot her a challenging look and Nyota instantly regretted it. She forgot how seriously the Orion took her skills in matchmaking. “Oh? And you’ve discussed Commander Spock’s taste in women during office hours, have you.” 

“I--no, but--I just  _ assume _ he’ll prefer his own kind. You know . . . someone  _ Vulcan _ .” Nyota knew she could be wrong, but it just didn’t cross her mind to consider otherwise. To be fair, his mother was human. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind a human mate. Gaila could be right. Since Ms. Chapel was in the medical research field and Commander Spock was a scientist interested in all forms of research, perhaps they could have enough commonalities to actually hit it off. 

“Hey, why don’t you check if Commander Spock is free for Thanksgiving?” Gaila suggested. “He can join us! He’ll be your plus one. And Christine will be  _ my _ plus one.” 

“What? No!” 

“Why? Do you want to ask Bradley?” Gaila wagged her fiery auburn brows at her. “I wouldn’t mind that either.” 

“No, I’m not asking Bradley. Chapel is dating someone else!” she hissed. 

“I don’t think they’re exclusive. Besides, it’s not a crime to put two people together for lunch!” Gaila fired back. It was a fair point, and Nyota felt her conviction slipping.

“Won’t that be weird?” 

Gaila scrunched up her nose. “A bit awkward, I guess. But it’s okay, we’ll roll with it.” 

Something inside her insisted it was all wrong, but she didn’t have the time to analyze it. Gaila was expecting an answer and  _ no _ wasn’t an acceptable one. “I guess I can casually ask him on Monday if he has plans.” 

Gaila clinked her glass against her own with a gleeful smile. “Cheers to that!” 

As she watched her green roommate retreat back to her socialization agenda, Nyota wondered, for the nth time, just how much differently her life would turn out had the academy student affairs department assigned another person to share her room three years ago. Undoubtedly, it would be less exciting without the Orion’s penchant for scheming. 


	11. Friendsgiving Feelings

Spock checked the platform schedule of the hyper rail bound for San Jose. The train was supposed to arrive at 1040 hours and depart at 1050. From the station, he anticipated a 15 minute walk to the address Cadet Uhura sent him, estimating his time of arrival to be no later than 1135. It was deemed acceptable as she had told him to arrive at 1140 for “Friendsgiving”, an interesting mash-up of the words friends and Thanksgiving. 

Her invitation was unexpected.

When she arrived in his office last Monday, she informed him that, contrary to his assumption, she would be spending the break on campus and would take care of the plant herself. It was a relief as the prospect of ruining her crassula ovata with his miscalculated watering would be unfavorable to their friendship. The cadet then asked him about his plans for the holiday and he informed her that Vulcans do not observe it and, as such, he intended to go about the day as usual. He was aware that experiencing the holidays alone was often distressing for humans who craved social connections, but even though he pointed out his Vulcan heritage, she was adamant that he join her small lunch gathering. She assured it will be an intimate gathering of no more than six and that he didn’t need to feel obligated to extend socialization after the meal. 

It was a kind gesture on her part. But more than that, the thought that Cadet Uhura wanted to include him in her personal celebrations gave him a warm feeling. Spock consented, albeit reluctantly. Since he had never gone to a proper Thanksgiving celebration, he was aware that he did not have the knowledge on how to conduct himself. His mother used to hold “special” dinners to celebrate the occasion but it had been some years since the last one and they never had guests over. 

He was told to “bring himself” but had thought it best to model the Cadet’s good house guest etiquette which she had exhibited when she joined him and his mother for dinner. As he stood waiting on the platform, Spock carried a bag of beverages he thought her company might appreciate. The liquor store he visited advised him to try the Thanksgiving best sellers such as Apple Cider Mojito, Cranberry Mimosas and a suggested rose sparkling wine for good measure. He purchased all three bottles without second thought. 

His train arrived on schedule and he proceeded to his designated seat without further delay. As he held the bag over his lap, he felt the pleasant anticipation of seeing his aide for one day within the 6 day break. Though with masterful discipline, he managed to fully restrain the sentiment within the brief 22 minute ride. Spock followed the route he had mapped out the night before from memory until he came upon a brick apartment block along a quiet, suburban neighborhood. He pressed the button beside the number 12B and waited. 

His aide opened the door and the sight of her caused his breath to hitch. “Hello, Commander. As expected, you’re right on time,” she greeted with a beautiful grin. 

She was in casual attire with a loose purple plaid button down top tucked into dark blue jeans that had an unusual hole just above the right knee. Her hair was loose and curled to soft waves. Nyota noticed the bag he carried. “Oh, thank you for bringing those! You shouldn’t have.” 

“I am simply practicing your custom’s etiquette. I do not want to be a bad guest.” 

Nyota remembered saying something similar to him. “No, of course not. Come on in, sir.” 

The interior of the apartment made use of plenty of wood accents--a rather old fashioned style but he found it comfortable. Further observation of the venue was interrupted when he noticed the cuff of Nyota’s jeans were folded above her slim ankles and that she was barefooted. In Vulcan custom, one only bared their feet to either immediate family or to mates. Spock forced himself to avert his attention elsewhere. 

“Can I get your coat?” 

“Certainly.” In the process of shedding his outerwear, he noticed four other pairs of footwear lined up at the side. 

“Sulu’s aunt is Japanese so we need to take off our shoes,” the Cadet explained. 

Spock nodded. He approved of the custom as Vulcans practiced the same sanitary measures in their households. He was offered a pair of guest slippers, and she led him through the living room and into the dining area where a table for eight stood center. Just past an archway to the right was, judging from the scent of food originating from it, the kitchen. He heard the faint murmur of a conversation too. 

An Orion female dressed in a gold sleeveless jumpsuit was seated by the table looking intently at her PADD. He knew her features as he had, on occasion, spotted her with Cadet Uhura on campus, but they had never been formally introduced. 

“Sir, this is my roommate Gaila. Gaila, you know Commander Spock.” 

The Orion dimpled a smile at him. “Of course I know Commander Spock! Welcome to our humble  _ Friendsgiving _ , sir.” 

He nodded. “Thank you for the invitation.” 

The table, he noted, was beautifully decorated with a gold table runner and natural accents of small plants. Several dishes were already laid out and he recognized most of it: mashed potatoes, green beans, and a salad that had an unusual amount of pomegranate. The soup tureen was covered.

Nyota offered to receive his gifts. “Wow, three bottles. Can you drink any of these, Commander?” 

“I do not favor alcoholic beverages, but I can imbibe a small quantity of the rose sparkling wine,” he answered. Nyota promptly set that particular bottle on the table and took the other two into the kitchen. In her absence, he was oddly aware of the female Orion’s presence. She was looking at him and had a jolly, friendly demeanor, but he was unsure how to interact with her. 

“Soooooo, what were you supposed to do today, Commander? If, you know, you weren’t here.” The Orion cadet placed her elbows on the table and tucked her knuckles under her chin. She addressed him by rank but her tone was informal as if they were old acquaintances reunited by the holidays. Intriguing. 

“I would have been either in my quarters or in my office. I originally intended to read through research journals I had collected.” 

“ _ Wow. _ Is that what you do for fun?”

Spock paused. There was a lightness in her tone that hinted at mirth. His choice of activities were only value adding. As he did not drink or have needs for socialization in his spare time, he often channeled his leisure time into productive outlets such as reading or practicing new music piece on the kaathyra. 

“I find it a favorable use of time, Cadet. Vulcans find it a worthy endeavor to continually refine our abilities and knowledge.” 

“Well, I guess that kind of attitude is why you got assigned as First Officer and Chief Science Officer. Congratulations, by the way.”

He dipped his chin. “Thank you.” He thought it best to use the mirroring technique and returned the question to the cadet. 

Gaila giggled. “I think we both have  _ very _ different ideas of fun, Commander.”

“And yet differences can be noted and accepted.” 

Gaila paused to consider this. “That’s true. Well, on my part, I’ve assimilated well with Terran culture since I’ve been here most of my life so I enjoy a lot of human forms of recreation like watching holo series and reading literature that only adds value to my imagination. I also enjoy other more physical recreations, particularly in  _ procreation _ , if you get my drift.” 

He did. And her candor was unheard of in all his years of socialization. 

“That is noted.” He also could not help but consider the possibility that Cadet Uhura also enjoyed the same activities. Spock felt an undesired elevation in his body temperature upon associating his aide with the notion of procreation. 

“Do you find that illogical? I’m not exactly promoting world peace when I’m on break.” 

“What is necessary for your well being isn’t illogical,” he answered. The Orion looked at him as if she was doing a full body scan. He knew her species were not telepaths but were more insightful than humans when it came to reading emotions and body language. 

“I think I’m beginning to understand why Nyota defended you so passionately.” 

Spock tilted his head to the side in question. 

“Well, we were hanging out a few nights ago and some guys started saying shit—sorry, I mean they were spreading  _ false statements _ about you. Something about you acquiring your posting unfairly.” Gaila rolled her eyes. “It really pissed Nyota off. You should’ve seen her, Commander, my ever so valiant roommate just jumped into the conversation to fight for your good name.” 

He found the cadet’s use of language to be peculiarly dramatic and it took a few moments for him to pry off the plausible truth from hyperbole. Her revelation surprised him, and he yearned to know what his aide had said. Spock felt his neck flush as pleasure bloomed in his chest. He was adjusting his collar when Nyota came back, carrying five flute glasses in her hands. 

“How may I be of assistance?” He asked, clasping his hands behind him.

She grinned at him reassuringly. “Just be comfortable, Commander. The turkey will be out soon.” She opened the bottle of rose sparkling and poured equal portions into the flute glasses just as an Asian male strode in from the kitchen looking harassed. He stopped on his tracks when their gaze met and a look of military trained attention took over his features and posture. 

“Hikaru Sulu, sir. A pleasure to meet you.” He held out a Vulcan salute which impressed Spock. 

“The pleasure is mine, Cadet. This house is your aunt’s?” Questioning what he already knew was often a good strategy for small talk.

“Yes, sir.”

“It is a lovely residence,” Spock said. He watched as Cadet Sulu looked at Nyota and back to him. 

“Thank you, sir. I’m glad you can share the occasion with us.” 

Nyota passed the flute glasses. “Cheers!” 

Spock raised his glass in a customary toast and took a sip of the wine. He did not enjoy spirits but the beverage in his hand along with lighter blends of rose was the most palatable version in his opinion. The turkey, which Nyota assured him was 100% synthesized protein, was carried out by another male of Asian descent, and the rest of the party cheered. Their reaction confused him. Why was the presentation of the dish a cause for celebration? 

When he asked Nyota, she chuckled. “The turkey is traditionally considered the main dish of the Thanksgiving meal,” she explained in a low voice. “It also takes the longest to cook so it’s a matter of both relief and joy to see it out on the table. It also means we can start eating.” 

“Fascinating.” Every muscle in his body was aware of her hand resting lightly on his arm. She did it unknowingly, spurred by habit. He also noted Cadet Gaila looking at them in a way reminiscent of his fellow scientists peering into petri dishes. 

Cadet Sulu walked over to the head of the table and urged them all to take a seat to commence the feast. After some cajoling from the company, Sulu uttered a short speech highlighting his gratitude for their company and the importance of the holiday. Sulu thanked Nyota for bringing the salad and the beans, Gaila for preparing the table and bringing the mashed potatoes, Ben for cooking their turkey, and acknowledged  _ his _ presence on their table as a welcome guest.

Spock’s designated seat was beside the man named Ben who, it turned out, was Cadet Sulu’s lover judging from the kiss they shared. The man carved the turkey into smooth slices. Across the table sat Cadet Uhura who looked exceptionally cheerful to serve the salad. She dumped a mass of greens with an unusual combination of toppings on his plate. 

“It’s pomegranate, pear and pecans, Commander,” she explained, to which he nodded. 

Cadet Gaila, who sat in between Nyota and Cadet Sulu, took the initiative to ladle a mustard colored broth onto their bowls. He guessed it to be pumpkin soup as he had it several times in the cafeteria and knew it to be a popular fall season dish. The synchronous movement of them serving one another was one he studied with interest. He also noted another set of tableware laid out beside him just as Cadet Gaila jumped up from her seat. 

“Oo! Christine’s here. I’ll go get the door.” 

Their last guest was a female with whom the rest of the group seemed already acquainted with. She was dressed in a sensible navy blue sweater and white trousers. Her blonde hair reached her shoulders and her eyes were wide and blue. Spock found her to be aesthetically pleasing to behold though the fact passed and left his mind quickly.

“Hi,” she said, addressed to the party. “I’m sorry I’m late.” 

His ears detected a slight British accent. 

“ _ Hello _ .” This time the woman named Christine was addressing him. Spock bowed his head in acknowledgment, marking her eager smile. Most people he met didn’t usually smile at him in such a manner. First Cadet Gaila and second this woman named Christine. Spock concluded that his aide must enjoy socializing with friendly personalities.

When the woman took her seat beside him, he caught the floral scent of her skin moisturizer or perfume. It was quite different from Cadet Uhura’s scent, but not unpleasant. “It is an honor to meet you, Commander Spock. I am such an admirer of your work. I’m Christine Chapel, but please call me Christine.” 

He was not in the customer of calling new acquaintances by their first name, but as she wasn’t a ranked Starfleet officer or a person of his superior, he thought it brought no harm to comply. “As you wish.” He helped pass her the plate of beans and the salad bowl, and Christine proceeded to explain how she had once attended a seminar he had also been present in. He recalled the event well. He had been interested in the lecture that would discuss the findings of the year long research on artificial cells done by the esteemed team of cyberneticists led by Dr. Saitoshi and Cooper from the International Institute of Robotics. Their research particularly focused on the possibilities of linking cell generation with artificial intelligence to form a truly human-like android. Their demonstration of a prototype named  _ Cognitio _ was still the most advanced in the field; yet far from the goal. 

Christine recalled the topic, which gave them an avenue for discussion that lasted for a duration of sixteen minutes. When he turned to look at his aide, Nyota was happily engrossed in a conversation with Mr. Chang and Cadet Sulu. As she did not look in his direction, he deemed it impolite to participate in the conversation without invitation. Without another alternative, he returned his attention back to the blonde, who had asked him about artificial cell regeneration. 

Nyota knew everything was happening according to Gaila’s master plan. It was her roommate’s strategy to seat Commander Spock beside Christine Chapel and it was turning out to be a good move given that the pair had been talking exclusively for nearly  _ twenty _ minutes. 

She wasn’t very familiar with their topic of conversation and knowing Gaila’s scheme, she didn’t bother participating. It was slightly annoying to note Commander Spock’s fascinated expression. He was completely focused on the blonde who, Nyota admitted, radiated beauty, intelligence and sensibility. 

“The turkey is delicious, Ben,” she said.

Sulu nodded as he forked another serving into his mouth. “Yeah, babe, it’s seriously good. The stuffing is--” he held out an okay sign.

Gaila jabbed her elbow onto her arm and, using her expressive pair of amber eyes, gestured for her to look at her matchmaking subjects. Nyota only noticed Christine’s exquisite smile and looked away. For some reason, she just didn’t want to bear witness to the woman’s blatant flirting. She found it irritating. Nyota guessed their  _ fascinating _ conversation must have been exhausted at some point because Sulu aimed a question at the Vulcan. 

“Commander, is this your first Thanksgiving?” 

“Among humans, yes,” Spock replied. He raised a brow at the silence that followed and took it as a cue to expound. “My mother used to celebrate the holiday by cooking pumpkin pie though it was mainly a private family affair. We did not have guests or extended family members partake the meal with us.” 

Nyota could imagine a scene wherein Amanda was serving a young Commander Spock a slice of pumpkin pie and thought it a sweet memory.

“Pumpkin pie sounds good,” she said and at once the Commander trained his eyes on her. A strange sensation coursed through her body. Seeing him before her with his pointed ears and unfailingly straight bangs while holding his cutleries reminded her of the time she had dinner with him and his mother. The fact that Commander Spock was willingly partaking in their human holiday added an element of surprise and depth to his character that she appreciated. 

“It remains to this day a favorite Terran dish,” he said, in a manner she felt was meant for only her. Another personal data to add to her growing compilation. Nyota smiled.

“Is your mother fond of Terran holidays in general?” Ben asked. 

“Yes, she is. It is understandable given that she is human.” 

Nyota registered the quiet that came from a sudden pause in eating. From the other end of the table, Christine lips parted and her blue eyes registered surprise and curiosity. And  _ interest _ . 

Gaila, unbothered by the revelation she already knew, reached forward to get more salad and took the opportunity to fire a question. “Soooo  _ Commander _ , given that your mother  _ is _ human, are you expected to marry a Vulcan--” 

Nyota kicked Gaila’s leg under the table. Information about Vulcan mating customs was almost non-existent. The only data she was able to find through previous casual research was that Vulcan children were often betrothed at a young age, but whether it was simply tradition or if it served another purpose was unclear. She always considered it untactful to ask about it.

She shot the Vulcan with a flustered and apologetic look and murmured, “Commander, you do  _ not _ need to answer that.”

Spock took a few seconds to consider it. The query was a deeply private affair; yet he was aware that humans did not find it odd to place such probing questions at the first meeting. “In truth, I have never been asked that question. But expectation notwithstanding, marriage is a choice we make logically.” 

“But it is  _ your _ choice, Commander?” The question came from Christine, and Nyota could bet the woman was holding her breath. 

“Ultimately, we do have the power of agency over the matter,” the Vulcan said. 

Nyota stared down on her own plate. His answer revealed something yet almost nothing except for the guarantee that he would have the final decision regarding his mate. The extent of his agency was also in question. If he only had to approve the match made to him when he was younger, it would still fit his statement.

“Oh, we’re out of wine! Gaila, why don’t we open the other bottles?” She communicated with narrowed eyes that warned the Orion not to resist. They walked into the kitchen and Nyota immediately vented her feelings in an exasperated whisper: “I can’t believe you asked him that! That was clearly against our interspecie protocol training! ” 

“And yet we’re not on a diplomatic mission, are we? No harm done! He looks totally cool with it,” Gaila responded, retrieving two bottles from the chiller.

“He’s not exactly the most expressive person in this room. What if he thinks we’re being rude?” 

Gaila smirked and worked a bottle open. “I think you’re overthinking this. I for one think that Vulcan is incapable of being upset with you. And even if you’re right, it’s totally worth it! Commander Spock just confirmed he’s open to a human mate!” 

Nyota frowned. “No, he didn’t. He just gave a cryptic answer.” 

At this, her roommate smiled. “ _ If _ you take it at face value. But he must know we expect him to say he is inclined to take a Vulcan wife. That’s our default presumption. If it was a matter of fact with him--meaning he intends to wholly comply with that expectation--then he would logically have taken the answer of  _ least resistance  _ and just confirmed it.” 

Nyota was still working the logic out in her mind when Gaila pried the bottle from her hands to assist her. The Orion opened the bottle in three skillful maneuvers.

“The fact that Commander Spock didn’t, means he is, in fact, open to the possibility of a human mate. I mean, did you see the way he’s looking at Christine? Dr. Korby better get his ass back here.” 

Gaila’s statement broke Nyota out of her reverie. “He’s  _ not _ looking at her any differently.” She certainly didn’t notice anything. Then again, she did make it a point  _ not _ to look at their general direction. She didn’t want to accidentally gag on her food. 

“Ny, as a good friend, I have to say you’re sounding  _ really _ territorial about Commander Spock.” 

Nyota scoffed at that statement and was chagrined to be unable to say anything to her defense since Gaila had stalked out of the room with the opened bottles. For the remainder of lunch, and over two glasses of light spirits, Nyota observed the Commander for any signs of partiality toward the woman beside him. He did pay Christine some attention, but she also noted that he interacted particularly well with Ben who had the advantage of not being part of Starfleet and was therefore ignorant of the Vulcan’s reputation. Sulu took a longer time to acclimate but once he got over being intimidated by the presence of a highly ranked officer on the table, he too was able to join in on the conversation. 

At one point, Sulu even asked for advice on a midterm exam simulation. He described the scenario in detail as well the steps he took. Thereafter, Commander Spock responded that while the steps were largely correct, he had missed out on the required hailing protocols (using the universal translator) prior to offensive maneuvers. Gaila injected her own humor in response and flaunted the idea that the Commander could become fabulously wealthy should he open the tutorial center they all desperately needed.

Nyota smiled at the Vulcan’s puzzled look as she sipped on her mojito, and when his eyes held hers, seemingly asking her to interpret the joke, her smile expanded into a grin. 

For dessert, Christine Chapel announced that she brought pumpkin pecan pie as well as apple pudding. She noticed the lingering look the woman directed at Commander Spock and saw him respond with that small lift on the corner of his lips. It was nearly imperceptible, but there. Nyota grudgingly gave Gaila more credit and the more she accepted her roommate’s theory, the more bothered she felt. She redirected her attention toward Ben who was telling an amusing childhood story. Over the course of the conversation, her ears caught the Vulcan say  _ it is delectable  _ and assumed he was enjoying Chapel’s pie. Nyota trained herself not to look at the Commander’s direction until their plates were scraped clean and all the bottles of liquor were consumed.

They all helped in gathering the plates and loading it into the sonic washer. Nyota and Ben mainly took charge of returning the tableware back into the cabinets while Sulu and Gaila wiped down the kitchen counter and table. By 1532 hours, Friendsgiving was officially over. 

When Nyota went back to the living room, she saw Commander Spock standing beside the couches, fully dressed in his coat which looked like his everyday gray uniform with his hands clasped behind him. An enraptured Christine looked cozy in her coat and was holding on to every word he said. Behind them, Gaila gave her a wink and mouthed  _ I told you _ . 

Perhaps Gaila’s matchmaking would bear fruit, and she’d never hear the end of it. In the spirit of fairness, Nyota admitted that the pair did look  _ pretty _ together. Christine had the intellect to keep the Commander interested and she had a graceful way of moving and conducting herself that complemented Vulcan decorum. 

Nyota mentally debated with herself as she put on a pale cream oversized sweater and her socks. Should Commander Spock feel inclined to explore a romantic relationship with Christine, she should, as someone who considers herself a kind of friend to him, support the endeavor. At the very least, she thought, Amanda would be thrilled to learn of her son’s new romance. 

“Uhura.” There was a lag before she responded to Sulu’s call. “Are you heading back to campus?” 

“Yeah. Are you?” 

“No.” Sulu nudged in Ben’s direction who was still in the kitchen. “I’m actually shacking up at his place for the break. I’ll send you the address. Come over when you can. We’ll be loaded with Asian food.” 

“Thanks. Gaila, you ready?” She peered at her roommate who was fastening the buckles of her gray jacket. 

“Sorry, Ny, I forgot to tell you, Christine and I will be heading to a different Friendsgiving. Our friend Sasha is hosting us for dinner at her house in LA. It’s a med thing. I’ll probably be back at the dorms on Saturday night.” 

“Oh.” Nyota slipped on her boots. “Okay, I’ll see you Saturday night.” She gave her roommate a cheek kiss and another for Sulu, Ben and even Christine. The woman towered over her in chunky heeled boots and a small petty part of Nyota couldn’t help but take it against her. 

“I am heading back to campus, Cadet Uhura,” Spock stated. “If you do not mind the company, we can return together.” 

“Of course, sir.” She had been avoiding him for the past hour, but given the circumstance, she reminded herself that it was  _ she _ who had invited the Vulcan.

Before the Commander stepped out, he bowed his head and thanked Sulu for the meal and offered praise for the dishes they feasted on in perfect diplomatic courtesy. Nyota bit back a smile, suddenly recalling the reason why she insisted the Commander to join them. It didn’t really have anything to do with Gaila’s matchmaking plot. She just didn’t want him to be alone for the holidays. 

They walked to the hyper rail station in silence. 

She doubted Commander Spock viewed a solitary holiday as a personal tragedy, but the idea was like telling her there was a homeless injured dog out on the street. 

“Your friends are amiable.” 

“Yeah, they’re great. And I know they enjoyed having you over. Thank you for accepting, Commander.” 

He looked at her, perhaps in confusion as to why she was thanking him when protocol mandated he be the one to thank her. 

“Oh, and I’m sorry if Gaila and Christine’s questions bothered you. It was a personal question.” She swiped her ID card at the station gate and it swooshed open. 

“I did not mind it.”

She banished the mental vision of Gaila’s smug face. There was only so much  _ I told you so  _ she could take in a day. “Did you like the food?” 

The Vulcan affirmed the statement as they walked to their designated platform. “The pumpkin pie was similar to what my mother used to make.” 

Ah.  _ Christine’s _ pumpkin pie. 

Nyota stiffened and she felt irate over her growing prejudice. While she generally liked Christine and admired her to be intelligent and capable, something inside her just  _ opposed _ the idea of the woman with Commander Spock. It was infuriatingly illogical but she was convinced that it was wrong. 

“I thought I should tell you that Christine is dating Dr. Korby--as in the _famed_ _archaeologist Dr. Korby_ ,” she said with feigned casualty. It was only right to let him know, she insisted to herself.

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. “I am familiar with Dr. Roger Korby’s work. And your information is noted.” 

She wondered if he truly  _ felt _ as neutral as he sounded. “So what do you think about her?” 

“To which female are you pertaining to?” 

“Your seatmate.” She crossed her arms and hugged herself.  _ Tall, smart and beautiful.  _ She felt his gaze on her profile. Their train arrived before he could respond, and in the time it took to board and get settled on their seats, Nyota was already imagining Amanda’s ecstatic reaction to the news of possibly having blue eyed grandchildren.

“Christine shows admirable commitment in her field,” he finally said. 

“Well, that’s good because it’s obvious that she likes you,” she countered in a clipped tone. 

He viewed her through narrowed eyes, straining to grasp her meaning. “You just mentioned that Christine is engaged in a courtship ritual with Dr. Korby.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Nyota mumbled with a shrug. “but it’s not exclusive . . .  _ yet _ . So it’s still fair game if you want to make a move.” 

“Cadet, your vernacular is unclear. Do you mean to encourage me to explore a romantic relationship with Christine?” 

“I-- _ no, I don’t _ ,” she snapped, feeling all the worse for it. She was beginning to realize that she found it aggravating when he called the woman Christine. It sounded so  _ intimate. _ Even he didn’t call her Nyota. She gritted her teeth. “I’m just stating the fact that you can,  _ sir _ .  _ If  _ you want to.” 

_ “I do not want to.”  _

His response came out with more force than the usual tone he took with her and it snuffed out her temper. She hazarded a look and noticed the minute crease in between his brows. 

“Well . . . I guess that’s that.” Nyota felt her cheeks flush as regret began to simmer in the pit of her stomach. If she could spend her entire credit savings to turn back time and keep her mouth shut, she believed she’d do it. He was still a commanding officer, even when there were moments that the line between friendship and rank seemed to blur.

“Your mood appears to be irascible, Cadet.”

In human vernacular, he would have just called her a bitch, and Nyota agreed that her behavior warranted a reprimand. 

“Sir, I apologize--”

“Do you have an upset stomach?” 

Nyota looked up. “What?” 

“I am speculating that the heavy meal we just consumed may not be sitting well with you and is affecting your mood.” He was so generous in his view of her that Nyota felt every sliver of irritation melt into gratitude . . . and also guilt for the way she acted.

“No, sir, that’s not it,” she half confessed. “Actually . . . You know what, I think I just need something sweet. I’ll stop by for ice cream before heading back to campus. I’ll get down somewhere in the city and you can head on back to the Academy.” 

The commander pondered upon this. “In her last visit,” he began slowly, “My mother expressed her desire to partake of that dessert. It was one of her priorities upon arrival:  _ e _ _ at salted caramel ice cream, preferably by the beach _ .”

The cadet grinned. “Amanda’s right. Salted caramel ice cream by the beach sounds perfect.” She watched the Vulcan’s expression which seemed unable to comprehend such an indulgent itinerary and couldn’t help the burst of desire to prove him wrong. “Would you care to try it, Commander Spock?” 

He had plans to finish two reports today. Should he consent, his schedule would have to be readjusted. But a part of him found the prospect of more time with his aide quite appealing. There was a point toward the end of their meal when Cadet Uhura had seemed to avoid him and her bewildering actions culminated in her vaguely informing him of Christine’s romantic availability. He did not understand her irascible behavior but as it was scientifically proven that sweet desserts such as ice cream triggered dopamine production, her self-prescription was sound. 

He decided to ensure her mood be fully restored to its normal state. “I do not mind accompanying you to the beach, but perhaps I shall purchase a hot beverage instead.” 

They got off at the nearest station to Baker Beach. They walked in companionable silence and, in the daylight, she easily noticed that he adjusted his pace to keep in stride with her. She found an ice cream shop near the beach and persuaded the Vulcan to try a free sample of vegan salted caramel flavored with coconut.

“You can only pass judgment after trying it,” she reasoned. 

He tasted it and maintained a stoic expression throughout the process. When he still persisted for a hot beverage, Nyota gave up her cause and bought two scoops of the flavor for herself. A cafe was still open two stores down, and the Commander purchased plain English breakfast. 

“I hope your day is enjoyable so far, Commander?” 

“Indeed.” the activities he had scheduled for today would have to be delayed till the weekend, but he found it a worthy compromise. The Cadet’s humor and genial mood seemed to be fully recovered. 

“Do you have anything scheduled for the rest of the break?” 

He nodded. “I am scheduled to visit the NC-1701 at the spacedocks tomorrow and observe its progress as per instruction of Captain Pike.” 

Her face, which probably was somewhere in between desperate longing and wild excitement, might as well have been the proverbial open book. It did not go unnoticed. “Would you like to come, Cadet?” 

She would have screamed  _ YES _ but managed to restrain herself enough to ask: “A-Are cadets permitted to visit the spacedocks?” 

Spock went through his memory bank concerning applicable regulations. “It would be unusual but not expressly forbidden,” he finally said. “I do not recall explicit regulation against student visits. As I am under clear orders and I deem it would not be completely out of line for my teaching aide to be with me, I am comfortable with my invitation.” 

She didn’t even need to think twice. “Well, in that case, _ yes! _ ” Then schooling her reaction to be a bit less excited, added, “Thank you for the opportunity, sir. I’ve been reading up on the latest news regarding the Enterprise, and it will be a dream come true to see it.” 

“We can convene at Hangar Two at 0730 hours. It will be a brief visit. I expect to be back within the day.” 

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there,” Nyota confirmed, slightly breathless with anticipation. 

She led him to the beach and when they got to the point where pavement stopped, Nyota stripped off her boots and socks. She then asked him to hold her ice cream and proceeded to tie her hair. When she saw him looking at her folding the hem of her jeans to her calves with raised brows, she chuckled. “I know it’s cold, but the sun’s warm and it’s nice to feel sand under my feet.” 

She held her ice cream cone in one hand and her boots in the other. The beach was popular and they saw tourists, dedicated joggers, and a few families. It was also chilly, and the wind had no trouble dislodging a few strands of her hair from its tie. She walked closer to the shore and relished the firmness of wet sand under her feet. The crunch of her ice cream cone was particularly satisfying as she walked farther toward the bridge. The Vulcan stayed in the dry area, sipping into his cup of tea as he trailed her. 

Nyota snuck glances at him while he had his gaze fixed on the looming red bridge iconic to the bay area for four centuries. He stood tall, his shoulders in a constant state of military-trained attention that she knew was as natural to him as breathing. The cold breeze had ruffled his impeccable hair, so she could see a bit more forehead. 

As she took a last bite of her cone, she felt the urge to comb the bangs back into place with her fingers and—

“Hi, excuse me, would you mind capturing a short holo vid of me and my wife?” 

Over the crashing sound of the waves, she heard a human male approach the Commander with the request, and Nyota watched with interest as the Vulcan complied, albeit stiffly as if it was uncommon for him to be approached for such a favor. She couldn’t help but smile as she slowly trudged up to stand beside the Commander and get out of the way of the recording. 

“I shall begin recording,” the Vulcan said flatly. 

The man and his wife were middle aged and, judging from the affectionate embraces and the laughs, still seemed very much in love. The couple thanked him and asked if he would like a memento with his beautiful  _ girlfriend _ . Nyota felt her cheeks flush at the insinuation. She was about to stammer a denial but Commander Spock was quick to explain. “You misunderstand. We are not romantically involved,” he answered neutrally. 

It was just like him to be unbothered by false assumptions and to answer with cold, hard facts, Nyota thought. She first felt the pinprick of disappointment followed by another strong lurch of emotion, the  _ desire _ to go against fact. She wanted--

Nyota took a few faltering steps away from the Vulcan as formerly fragmented thoughts started coming together to form a logical narrative that had long eluded interpretation. 

It suddenly made sense--why the idea of Christine and the Commander together irritated her so much, why it bothered her that he actually called the woman by her first name when she was still  _ Cadet Uhura _ . Gaila teased her about being territorial, and her roommate was right. When the Commander clarified that they were not romantically involved, she felt the desire to be just that. She didn’t mind. She  _ wouldn’t _ actually mind . . . 

Nyota heard her pulse pumping in her ear. 

Commander Spock took no notice of her internal crisis with his gaze captivated by the Pacific Ocean and the perennial cycle of the tides thrashing onto the shore in sync with the moon’s gravity. It briefly registered in her mind that Vulcan had no bodies of water to match the expanse of Earth’s oceans and no moon to cause powerful waves. 

He stood solemnly, listening and holding a kind of personal vigil with nature. It seemed so clear to her then as she studied his expression of pure fascination. 

She had feelings for Commander Spock. 


	12. A Re-Evaluation of Emotions

Nyota had no more than four hours of sleep when she dragged herself out of bed and into the shower. It was just as well that Gaila wasn’t in residence as she had spent hours of the previous evening in panic. 

Through a lengthy process of groaning, sighing, and howling, she dissected her emotions as best as she could and was able to acknowledge that she did have a crush on Commander Spock. Nyota reasoned with herself that it was only natural given that the Commander was a new and frequent presence in her life, and that she admired him. He was talented, unparalleled in intellect and incredibly articulate. He was also kind and easy on the eyes. 

_ It’s just a bit of a crush,  _ she told himself as she applied her eyeliner in an expert flick of her wrist. Her reflection stared back, eyes steeled with determination to not let her emotions get the best of her.  _ It doesn’t have to be a big deal.  _ She wiped a more generous quantity of concealer under her eyes and finished with a pat of moisturizing cream. 

She had plenty of crushes in the past but it had almost always been a distant kind of admiration. Aside from Keith who became her boyfriend, all of her internal adolescent passions faded in time. She counted that her current infatuation would meet the same fate, hopefully sooner than later.

Nyota inspected herself in the mirror. The trousers of her uniform were nicely steam pressed for the occasion and every strand of her hair was neatly tucked into her usual ponytail. At least her ensemble was professional, and she believed it would cloak whatever  _ un _ -professional sentiments she harbored for the Commander. She tucked her ID into her front pocket, grabbed her PADD from the bedside table and strode out of her room. 

The only time she’d been to Hanger Two was during her freshman campus orientation. As they were still on break, the area was generally abandoned except for the occasional shouts of mechanics coordinating the loading of materials onto the transport vessel. Commander Spock was already standing by with his PADD clutched in one hand when she arrived. He too was dressed in standard faculty uniform. 

“Good morning, sir,” she greeted while trying hard to act as normal as she could. 

“Cadet,” he responded.

A man in khaki overalls approached the Vulcan with a PADD. “Commander Spock, we are currently loading the last of the cargo. This is the full list of materials requested by Commander Malkov and approved by both Starbase Commodore Yamato and Starfleet Admiral Perry. We will expect to depart on schedule. You may now embark, sir.” 

“Acknowledged.”

He gestured for her to proceed and followed behind her. There were only ten seats available and as the first to board, she took the window seat at the front row next to the emergency exit. He took the aisle seat on the same row, leaving one empty seat in between them, and buckled in. Several personnel filed in and settled down. 

Nyota looked out the window and gripped the hand rests framing her seat.

“Are you uncomfortable?” 

She saw him looking at her knuckles that had gone slightly white and promptly returned her hands to her lap. “I’m just nervous, sir. I’ve never been off-planet.” Nyota felt both excited and frightened in equal measure. The idea of an off-planet assignment had always been the goal, but it never felt more real until the moment the transport vessel disengaged from the docks. 

She forced in a deep breath and exhaled with control when they began moving. It wouldn’t do to appear weak and inexperienced, especially not in the presence of a person she currently admired more than anyone. When they broke past the thermosphere, the vessel jousled, and her hands reacted instinctively. She reached for the hand rest at the same time his hand came down near the crook of her elbow. 

He did not speak or look in her direction and his face carried nothing but neutrality. In the few seconds of turbulence, Nyota’s attention was easily drawn to the reassuring press of his palm and fingers.  The Commander released her once all forms of turbulence ceased and said nothing of it. Nyota told herself she shouldn’t get herself emotionally worked up over one kind act. She shifted her gaze to the darkness beyond her window and the planet they had just left behind.

The gliding of the vessel on impulse was so smooth that if she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was riding a shuttle bus. 

_ Entering warp factor three. Estimated arrival at Starbase Portsmouth: one hour and twenty minutes. _

After minutes of pure silence between herself and the Commander, she sought to distract herself with the e-book in her PADD library that she promised Gaila she’d read. It was titled  _ As You Wish _ . The synopsis, she read, centered around the budding relationship of an Orion slave girl and her rescuer, a dashing merchant named Marco Watson who, judging from the cover page, had its inspiration from 19th century pirates with his shoulder length blonde hair and ruffian like beard. 

Nyota wondered if was one of those sex-with-no-plots kind of literature Gaila sometimes favored. She wasn’t really into those, but since she promised her roommate to give it a chance, she clicked on the title to commence reading. By only page ten, the first scene of passion between Talia the slave girl and the captain of the trading vessel that rescued her was already written in explicit detail. 

“Cadet, may I inquire on your reading material?” 

She angled the screen away from the Commander’s view and powered down her PADD in a one second act of self-preservation. It felt uncommonly warm in her uniform and his curious gaze wasn’t helping. 

“It’s—uhm—a book recommended to me by a friend. It’s  _ fiction _ .”  _ Pornographic _ fiction. In hindsight, she realized how suspicious it was to suddenly hide the PADD from him. Commander Spock was still looking at her. “I’ll read it later.”

“You are not prohibited from reading aboard the vessel,” he pointed out. 

“I know, but I prefer to read it another time. I-I’m finding it hard to focus.” She swore never to trust Gaila’s literary recommendations again.

Spock lifted one brow and turned back to his own PADD. “ _ As you wish _ .” 

The coincidence, Nyota thought with a wry smile, was definitely uncanny. 

Starbase Portsmouth was the closest Federation shipyard to Earth. She’d seen it in pictures, but it was a marvel to see in person. Even lightyears away she could see the edifice: two space decks connected by a long shaft that allowed the simultaneous building of two constitution class starships. 

They docked smoothly and disembarked in routine fashion. Nyota followed in the footsteps of the Commander, maintaining the proper distance dictated by military protocol. She focused to gaze steady forward instead of letting it roam around as she desperately wanted to. 

A looming form of a man with a neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard stood waiting for them at the end of the aerobridge. The stripes on his uniform informed her of his rank:  _ Commander _ .

“It’s a pleasure to have you here, Commander Spock,” he said, his voice a deep baritone.

“Commander Malkov,” Spock greeted, “This is my aide, Cadet Uhura. Cadet, this is Commander Malkov, head engineer of the NCC-1701.” 

Nyota smiled politely when the man’s gaze befell her profile. Malkov gestured for them to walk with him for the remaining way to the station. 

Spock titled his head slightly to face the man. “How is your progress, Commander?” 

“Overall project completion at 57%. The exterior of the starship is already at 68% completion. We managed to complete the engine hull before some of our human crew members left for Thanksgiving leave. For the primary hull, we only have finishing works left for the phaser control deck and cargo bay. 5% for the neck is still under construction but we expect that to be completed in another week.”

“Has the computer core center been finished?” 

“Yes, the mainframe system was installed last week by Dr. Litrell and myself. It is functional and can be tested out.” 

“Life support?” 

“Functional only within the engine hull and the main bridge. We haven’t finished laying out the wiring for the rest of the ship.The air ducts, however, have just been completed, at least for the primary and engine hull.”

“Progress report on the engineering deck?” 

“The pipework is momentarily on pause. We have encountered a delay in the manufacturing of the pipes due to a material shortage, but we’re expecting delivery in strictly two days. I’ve re-assigned shifts to work on the warp core instead.” 

“Nevertheless, your output is on schedule. Your team’s productivity is commendable, Malkov.” 

Nyota sensed relief from the engineer and surprise over the commendation. She guessed Commander Spock wasn’t in the habit of giving praise. The Vulcan as Starfleet Commander was consistent with his role as academy instructor.

They arrived at the viewing deck, and Nyota had to remind herself to keep her mouth closed. The window was tall and wide, giving them a generous display of the construction site for the starship. Just as Commander Malkov reported, the saucer-shaped hull was practically complete, exterior wise, excluding the steel frames of the neck which appeared to her like a mesh of bones peeking out. Hovering around that area, several construction shuttles were focused on the remaining installations. The cylindrical shell of the engine hull, meanwhile, looked entirely complete.

“A beauty, isn’t she?” said Malkov with parental pride. 

Commander Spock didn’t respond to that but took down a few notes on his PADD. When he was done, he proposed: “Shall we proceed to the main bridge?” 

Nyota tried to maintain her expression of neutrality despite wanting desperately to see the comms station, in whatever form. The ship’s interior was still relatively bare. Aside from the ceiling which looked more or less complete and the windows perfectly in place, a large expanse of walls were still being installed with an abundance of wires in all six primary colors and more. Some areas were still being padded with insulation. It was arduous work, she realized, to construct a starship that intended to hold 3,000 personnel onboard.

A makeshift cargo lift was temporarily attached to access the main bridge. The room had no ongoing construction and was dark. Commander Malkov manually typed onto a computer screen on one of the consoles and immediately the bridge powered up. Under bright white light, it was easy to see that the main center of command was in the more advanced stages of construction. 

The main viewing screen was already in place and the seats and con stations looked fully furnished in a clean white and gray color scheme. Above each station was a computer screen that ran seamlessly around the room. 

“We’ve hooked everything up to batteries to test out the systems. We’ve also loaded your voice as an authorized personnel into the system.”

Nyota was internally palpitating with excitement as her eyes roamed and soaked in the details. The captain’s chair commanded attention and beyond it, the helm stations looked particularly sleek. She saw the warp and impulse lever and wished she could take a video of it for Sulu. She can almost imagine his green look of envy.

“Computer, can you tell me about this Starship?” In the silence, Commander Spock’s voice was magnified. 

“Certainly, Commander Spock,” a female voice responded. “You are aboard the NCC-1701 USS Enterprise. This is a constitution class starship commissioned by Starfleet in the year 2254. Its directive is to seek out new life forms and civilizations to deepen the Federation’s knowledge of worlds beyond the charted galaxy.” 

Spock raised a brow. “That is accurate. State the ship’s current location.”

“You are currently inside starbase Portsmouth spacedock section A.” 

Spock nodded and typed briefly on his PADD. “Kindly dim the lights to 80%” 

The command was immediately complied with and the room darkened accordingly. 

“Execute power saving mode.” 

The lights in the room and computer screens dimmed by 50% in response. “Power saving mode executed. Oxygen reduced to 70%. Non-basic controls powered down.” 

Commander Spock commanded the reversal of the order and proceeded to clarify with the chief engineer. From what she had gathered from the Commanders’ discussion, the computer execution lag time was1q reduced to 0.03 seconds and AI was programmed to troubleshoot every fifteen minutes. It was capable of fixing common errors and reduced the burden of maintaining it.

Commander Spock went into deeper details of the operating system, but Nyota’s attention was already wandering toward the comms station. She heard something about a tech that would revolutionize the way data was stored and utilized aboard the starship but drowned out other technical jargon. 

She cautiously walked toward the comms. The screen was wide and defaulted to a cool blue light filter to reduce eye strain. She searched for the placements of the basic communications switches and found most of them above head, a marked positional difference from the academy comm labs and simulation room units which were at least eleven years out of date. The main work area was heavy on screens and looked incredibly modern. She liked it very much. 

“Cadet, are you particularly interested in communications?” Malkov ventured to ask, jolting her back to attention. 

“Yes, sir.” Nyota wondered if she looked as star struck as she felt. 

Commander Spock took the liberty of expounding when she found her tongue uncooperative. “Cadet Uhura specializes in xenolinguistics..” 

The engineer took note of it with a characteristic lifting of his heavy set graying brows. “Ah, I see. Then you can very well command that station in the future.” 

“Commander, shall we proceed to the main data processing center?” Spock said. 

“Certainly. Right this way.” 

Nyota casted a lingering gaze at the Bridge until all the lights powered down. For the longest time her goal was something she just knew conceptually:  _ to be assigned to the Enterprise _ . It had been all words. Now she had the privilege of having a visual of what that goal looked like taped into memory. 

They were offered refreshments after the tour of the primary hull concluded. Spock casted a side glance at his aide who looked keen to take up that offer and voiced his consent to take an intermission for her sake. 

He logged in last minute observations onto his PADD while the cadet gladly sipped on her hot coffee. They were seated in the cafeteria as Spock had insisted it would suffice, contrary to the private dining room Commander Malkov intended to place them. On the table was a simple fare of small sandwiches humans termed _ finger food _ which he nevertheless used his utensils to consume. 

He confessed to himself that he took a strong pleasure in seeing her glowing admiration clearly painted on her face. Her fascination was expected as the cadet herself claimed that it was her first off-planet excursion. It amplified her aesthetics considerably. 

“Commander Spock.” 

Their attention was diverted to an approaching party of three. The man in the middle was an older gentleman of at least sixty years of age. His hair was almost white. Spock stood out of deference, and Nyota set aside her cup to follow his actions. She blinked twice to make sure she read the man’s rank properly. 

“Commodore Yamato,” Spock greeted, holding out his Vulcan salute. 

“Captain Christopher Pike informed me you’d be coming on his behalf. Welcome. I hope I’m not intruding on your lunch. ” 

“You may join us,” Spock offered, which the man took. 

Commander Malkov made way for the Commodore who seated himself across from the Vulcan. Nyota resumed her seat beside the Commander. 

“Starbase Portsmouth is honored to be constructing the Enterprise. The antimatter cell has just been completed, if I’m not mistaken.” Commander Malkov supported this statement. 

“Have you seen the warp engines? It’s the first time in history that we’re making a starship that’s supposed to be able to maintain warp  comfortably at factor 7 with a maximum warp speed at factor 8. We’ve come a long way since the NX-01.” 

“Indeed, Commodore. Commander Malkov intends to show me the engines after our recess,” Spock said.

“We are  _ all _ anticipating the test drive. Should it succeed, it will be the fastest ship on the fleet. And it won’t be long after that we can achieve warp 9.” The man let out a deep exhale before continuing. “I’ve heard from Admiral Gates that you had refused his offer to serve a senior position at Starfleet Command under his Science Operations office. Openings like that don’t come often, Commander.” 

He felt Cadet Uhura’s eyes on him. “I had considered the post well and it was with gratitude that I turned down the offer by Admiral Gates. Serving aboard a Starship as its science officer has its own merits. It would be a unique opportunity to study new life forms firsthand. I would have chosen the posting even if Captain Pike had not offered me the role of First Officer.”

“Quite an unconventional move by Captain Pike to offer you two posts. But congratulations, Commander. You have the spirit of a true scientist, and I look forward to seeing your career growth.”

“Thank you,” Spock said simply. He noticed the Commodore’s eyes rest on his aide and offered introductions. Yamato regarded her kindly.

“Our comms station is located just seven floors above. We have several linguists serving under the trade department, diplomatic committee and ship communications support. Would you care to tour that part of the facility, Cadet? Lieutenant Perry can take you.” 

The cadet’s eyes widened with awe at the generous offer and darted a probing look towards him. Spock could not conceive of a logical reason  _ not _ to permit it, and even if he did, it would be a big temptation to forego logic if only to please her.

“We can convene at the dock station in exactly two hours.” 

It was interesting to know how thrilled she was at the opportunity and yet witness her controlling her emotions so masterfully in a manner worthy of a Vulcan. Her response was a subdued and proper “Yes, Commander.” Spock watched as Cadet Uhura was led away by the Commodore’s assistant, and his thoughts were interrupted by Commodore Yamato’s indulgent chuckle.

The man leaned closer and whispered, “If I was any younger and my eyesight more reliable, I would swear you just smiled, Commander Spock.” 

* * *

When Spock was satisfied with his survey and all inquiries were adequately answered by Malkov’s team, he bid the chief engineer farewell and returned to the dock station where Cadet Uhura was already waiting for him. She had a take away bag on her lap and, upon seeing him arrive, stood up and handed it to him.

“I noticed you didn’t eat much earlier so I got you a sandwich and some tea.” 

Now that he fulfilled his orders to survey the Enterprise and was only waiting to board a transport bound for San Francisco, Spock realized that a light meal was rather appealing. Cadet Uhura’s thoughtfulness was on point. 

“Thank you,” he said, receiving the package and joining her in the waiting lounge. “Was the communications facility satisfactory?”

Away from the presence of any other senior staff, his aide was free to act as she wished and she took full advantage of it. While generally preferring calm to excitement, he noticed that he took exception to Cadet Uhura’s enthusiastic chatter. She radiated joy and open admiration for the job which only amplified her aesthetic beauty. Spock was content to listen and watch her as he consumed his meal. 

They boarded the same shuttlecraft that took them to the starbase and reclaimed the same seats. He had just fastened his seat belt when another passenger entered the shuttle with a noticeable limp in his gait. Without a word, Spock unbuckled his safety strap and moved aside to offer his seat to the person. The man thanked him with a nod and the Commander settled himself in the middle seat directly beside his aide. 

“That was kind of you,” Nyota whispered with a small smile. 

“My seat would give him ease of access to the exit and would reduce his walking distance. It is logical.” 

There was something in the way she looked at him that caused an unravelling sensation in his gut. “It’s still kind,” she insisted before turning to look out the window.

_ Docking clamps disengaged. Departing Starbase Portsmouth. Destination: Starfleet Academy, San Francisco. _

He noticed his seatmate rub her eyes a few times minutes after take off. He also recorded two yawns which indicated she was feeling drowsy. 5.7 minutes after her second yawn, he detected a slow tilted dropping of her head and upon observation, he found that she was already fast asleep in her seated position. 

_ Fascinating.  _

The ability to fall asleep literally anywhere was a human “weakness” he had learned in his primary school days that only proved how much more evolved Vulcans were in mastering their biological urges. Humans have a considerable need for rest and failure to acquire the adequate hours needed by the body would result in a drowsiness that was difficult to resist. Without pre-emption, her head lolled to her right—a result of her losing control of her sternocleidomastoid muscles—and gently bumped his left shoulder. She must have unconsciously found her perch satisfactory as her head nestled closer. 

Spock sat absolutely still. 

He was unsure how to handle the delicate situation. Should he consider propping her head back to normal position, it would only result in her head dropping to another angle that might possibly wake her. Without the support of his shoulder, Cadet Uhura would suffer more strain on her neck. He could smell her hair, a refreshing herbal scent of lavender infused with floral essences and the underlying notes of her personal scent. Being in such an intimate proximity to her made him flush with discomfort yet he also felt the paradoxical pleasure of heightened attraction. 

In the end, he deemed that opting to do nothing was the most reasonable course of action. He strove to maintain the position of his shoulder to avoid waking her and contentedly scrolled through his PADD to advance on his readings. 

_ Entering Earth atmosphere in two minutes. Please ensure that your safety harnesses are fastened for the remainder of the journey. _

When she was just beginning to regain awareness, the first thing that registered in her mind was that Commander Spock’s shoulder was quite comfortable. It was solid but with the nice touch of softness. Seconds later, the impropriety of her position sunk in and she surreptitiously corrected her posture. A hand shot up to touch the corners of her mouth and she was relieved to note that it was dry. At the very least, she hadn’t drooled on him. 

How long had she been asleep? Her last memory was them departing the starbase. Did she sleep for the entire hour on his shoulder? 

Nyota straightened the creases on her uniform. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t really get a good night’s sleep last night.” 

“It wasn’t a bother. I hope you feel more rested, Cadet.” 

Nyota mentally groaned. He was so nice that it was only making her like him more. 

Their shuttlecraft trembled upon entry to their home planet but this time she already anticipated the turbulence. And with Commander Spock so near, it was impossible to feel afraid or even nervous. He radiated calm and the sense of adeptness at all times. It was one of the things she found so attractive. He felt like a concrete answer to her overthinking. 

She didn’t know how long the crush would last, but denying her admiration felt counterintuitive. Besides, it was harmless enough. Nyota decided to just act as normally as she could while keeping her feelings for the Commander at bay. What she felt wasn’t the lustful passions that often spiralled into fraternization violations. She simply felt happy around him, not to mention motivated. It wasn’t going to threaten her career. 

She was satisfied that it was a logical decision. 

Their landing was executed smoothly. When they were cleared to unfasted their harness, Spock mentally calculated that it would take around thirty minutes to get back to his quarters but only twelve minutes if he happened to chance on the campus shuttle. He was becoming familiar with the strong emotions he felt for the cadet but still preferred to resolve the imbalance as swiftly as possible. 

“Commander Spock, thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to join you on this excursion. It’s a privilege I’m grateful for.” She was still smiling as they walked out of the Hangar complex. The campus shuttle was scheduled to arrive in two minutes. Nyota was still tracing the shuttle route on the screen when she yawned. 

“Are you still fatigued?” he inquired, curiously noting the excessive moisture in her eyes post yawn. 

She sighed. “I probably need a longer nap. But that’s what the break is for, to catch up on some sleep.” 

It was certainly not what he intended to do on his remaining days off but he nodded anyway.

They parted on friendly terms, and once Spock entered his quarters, he changed to his meditation robes, promptly sat down on his mat and closed his eyes. He knew the thoughts he had to mentally wrestle with. In the minutes that Cadet Uhura had her head on his shoulder, he had seriously deliberated participating in a courtship ritual with the intention of winning the cadet’s affections to become his mate. 

The notion casted doubts on his previous decision to not engage with his emotions. The certainty that he once felt about their biological incompatibility was waning and needed careful re-evaluation.

In the privacy of his quarters, Spock considered if there was a possibility that he was entering _ pon farr.  _ His only experience of that biological urge was from T’Pring and even then his memories were not clear. His own had been delayed due, no doubt, to his human heritage. While most of his peers have succumbed to the mating ritual from late adolescence to their early twenties, it was in question whether a half Vulcan would ever experience it. As the matter was considered delicate, there was only few and vague information regarding the ritual in Vulcan archives and completely no reliable data for half Vulcans. 

Spock took in deep breaths. He didn’t feel much differently apart from the usual disturbance caused by his affection for the cadet and so ruled out  _ pon farr _ . Fastidiously, he began to re-evaluate his former position. 

The idea that him and Cadet Uhura were incompatible was conjecture. Their working relationship was satisfactory, as was their friendship. She had never labelled him as a friend, but the very fact that she would invite him to her Thanksgiving lunch and also to a brief trip to the beach was quite personal and familiar. She now seemed comfortable interacting with him in a setting beyond the scope of academics on both instances. Therefore, he could reasonably infer that they were friends. 

He knew it was not uncommon for friendship to develop into a romantic relationship. There was a possibility the cadet would welcome his advances. 

Spock frowned. Conversely, there was also an equal possibility that the cadet would refuse any attempts for a more intimate relationship. It was so much a reality that 21st century humans had created a term for it. The  _ friendzone _ . He could attempt to probe her feelings for him with an indirect meld but he was honor bound to refuse that option. 

There was also their direct professional affiliation with one another as teacher and assistant that would make any attempts for courtship a clear abuse of his authority for as long as she served as his aide. That gave him two additional paths to consider should he choose to pursue her. One, he could terminate her role as his teaching aide and acquire another cadet for the role; two, he could wait till the end of the academic year when she would be released from any professional obligations towards him.

The first option was undesirable as he was yet uncertain of her feelings. Should she be uninterested in his advances, the cadet would only suffer from being unfairly dropped from the role he had offered her in the first place. It was also a move that would raise attention and inspire gossip. Spock mentally crossed it out. 

The second option was more sound. He could maintain normal behavior with her and subject her under more observation. It would also allow him more time to construct a more detailed cost-benefit analysis of pursuing a romantic relationship with Cadet Uhura. 

The first benefit that came to mind was the relief from his emotional longing. Should Cadet Uhura be willing to explore a romantic relationship, he might be given the liberty to meld with her. He would be able to keep her accessible through a telepathic bond. He could also get to know her better as a potential lifelong mate.

The cost was also clear. Despite noting the cadet’s above average capability for logical thinking, he would still have to navigate the additional courtship nuances necessary to maintain a stable relationship with her without him abandoning his Vulcan philosophy or her ceding her humanity. He did not want to extend beyond his beliefs to satisfy her emotional needs. He also did not desire to mirror the marital union of his parents. 

His entire analysis, however, hinged on one primary concern:  _ would Cadet Uhura deem him an acceptable bondmate?  _ The cadet, he knew, was popular among males. Aside from the harrassing advances of Cadet Santiago and the mysterious male he had seen her with that night by Oakland bridge, he had also marked a few instances of Cadet Uhura attracting the male gaze—three on campus and once on their way back from the concert. It was imperative that he determine he was qualified. 

A distinct memory resurfaced in his thoughts. 

During her consultation with Cadet Santiago, she had confessed two attributes that excited her sexually (the resulting definition for the slang  _ turn on  _ in the human dictionary): competence and good old fashioned manners. 

Spock opened his eyes. He was familiar with competence and judged himself to possess that attribute. But with regard to old fashioned manners—what was the criteria for “old”? 

“Computer, search for a list of old fashioned manners and display it on the screen.” 

His computer screen powered on at his command and revealed a list fitting his criteria. It was titled:  _ The Old Fashioned Manners In Danger of Dying Out. _

  1. Not using your PADD when at the table
  2. ‘Ladies first'
  3. Never swearing
  4. Saying 'please' and 'thank you' when requesting something
  5. Keeping elbows off the table when eating a meal
  6. Giving up your seat on public transport to someone who may need it more than you



Spock raised his brows, remembering the Cadet remark on his gesture as being kind. Was it now considered unusual for people to offer their seats? Did he impress her? Did his actions  _ arouse _ her?

  1. Holding the door open for people who may be behind you
  2. Waiting for your host to seat you at a meal
  3. Shaking hands when you greet someone
  4. Covering your mouth and nose when you cough or sneeze 
  5. Saying 'sorry', even for minor things
  6. Chewing with your mouth closed
  7. Waiting for everyone to be served their meal before you start eating



He read till the end of the list and was baffled. The items on the list were only proper and common courtesy. Why was it labelled “old fashioned”? And why would the article cite the list as endangered of extinction? He found number 3 to be inapplicable as Vulcans were not in the custom of swearing as it did not serve any purpose other than to relieve emotional tension. Nearly everything else on the list were courtesies his mother had instilled in him, others were reinforced by Vulcan customs. Aside from number 3 and 9 which wasn’t applicable to Vulcans and number 11 which he felt was illogical (what does excessive apologies aim to achieve?), Spock was confident he regularly exhibited these behaviors. 

Did that mean Cadet Uhura found him sexually attractive? It remained unclear, but at least he acquired more confidence that he was qualified to pursue courtship. He needed only to wait till the end of academic year if such a course of action would still be within interest.

* * *

Gaila decided to extend her stay in Los Angeles and informed her via text on Saturday night that she will be arriving on Sunday night instead. It suited Nyota just right as she found solitude to be exactly what she needed. Without another soul present, she finished _ As You Wish  _ in three hours _.  _ The plot was definitely more pornography than literature and was a bit on the absurd side, but it was a good balance to the Federation Law readings she’d been jamming into her brain prior to the break. 

She indulged in a lengthy call with her family that lasted for three hours and went into a thorough cleaning frenzy on her side of the room and the bathroom. She rearranged her closet and her shoes and deleted all unnecessary files from her PADD. Come Sunday evening, Nyota laid in bed with a moisturizing sheet mask on and her earpods plugged. She was looking forward to an early night’s sleep to get a fresh start tomorrow. 

When her PADD vibrated, she thought it was Gaila who was due to be back at any moment. Maybe she was going to get some take out and wanted to ask her for her order. The message she received, however, wasn’t anywhere near what she expected.

_ Cadet,  _

_ As per the Academy Code XI Student and Staff Non Fraternization, under section C iii, you are summoned to the Office of the Superintendent of Personnel tomorrow to answer for the allegations of misconduct charged against one Nyota Uhura, Cadet 0107513 and one Commander S’chn T’gai Spock faculty member 004582. Please report to the office at 0900 hours. It is imperative that no communication be exchanged between the accused party or it will be taken in as evidence of collusion.  _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Stella Mills _

_ Assistant Superintendent of Personnel _


	13. Fraternization

She was being accused of fraternization.

Nyota took deep calming breaths to maintain decorum and pump up some courage into her bloodstream. She sat on a ridiculously uncomfortable wooden bench waiting to be called in by the Superintendent and it wouldn’t make a good impression if she suddenly started having a kind of panic attack. This was all a terrible, _terrible_ misunderstanding. 

“Cadet Uhura, Admiral Lui will see you now.” 

Entering the office, Nyota realized that she had only seen Admiral Gretchen Lui during formal hearings which was only twice in her entire stay in the academy. Her reputation was that of a woman who wouldn’t hesitate to inquire after the wellbeing of your family but one who took a no-nonsense attitude when it came to work.

The Admiral looked up from the PADD she was reading. “Please sit.” 

Nyota noticed that the office was strictly formal with no holo images or videos of loved ones. It was all in cool tones of glass and steel. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Do you know why you’re here?” 

Nyota nodded and spoke as evenly as possible. “Yes, ma’am. I am supposed to answer to the allegation of fraternization with Commander Spock.” 

“You are serving as his teaching aide, correct?” 

“Yes, ma’am, and I am refuting the allegation.” 

It was better to be direct. Nyota met her gaze and saw the woman scrutinizing her profile. “Cadet, I’ve read your file and I’m impressed with your credentials. It wouldn’t be wise to lie even in a preliminary hearing.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Admiral Lui shifted in her seat and presented her with the PADD in her hands. “You do know that under the Academy Code XI, it is expressly prohibited to have personal and intimate relationships between staff and students where the staff member has a direct responsibility for, or even the slightest involvement, in that student’s academic studies?” 

“Yes, ma’am. It is very clear.” 

“Would you still maintain that the allegation is false, Cadet?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“And just to be very clear, you have _never_ received any improper advances from Commander Spock and that the Commander has never shown any form of abuse of his authority, perhaps to coerce you into doing his bidding or into staying silent?” 

The entire allegation was ridiculous, Nyota thought. “Never, ma’am. Commander Spock conducts himself with integrity and propriety at all times. I honestly do not think he’s capable of acting in any way otherwise.”

Nyota paused. The admiral’ s words echoed in her ears. _It wouldn’t be wise to lie._ “However, I can say that since serving as his aide, our relationship has deepened into a more personal friendship though I wouldn’t say we’re close,” she added. “He . . . invited me once to a musical concert, and I know that might look suspicious to others, but it was around the start of term and he intended for it to be a kind, rapport-building gesture to welcome me into the role. If this is what this is about, it’s probably a cultural misunderstanding, Admiral.”

Nyota noted that the admiral wasn’t even taking down any notes. The woman leaned back on her chair and assumed a more relaxed manner of talking.

“Very well. We received a report during the break as well as so called evidences—mostly cctv footages—of your _indiscretion_ with Commander Spock. Despite the Commander being one of our most esteemed graduates and a person, as you described, of great integrity, we still needed to conduct an investigation into these statements. Thank you for clarifying your stance with us, Cadet. You may return to your classes, but we hope you will avoid reaching out to the Commander until we’ve conducted our interview with him.” 

Nyota blinked. “Yes, ma’am, of course.” She was inches from the door, when Nyota thought to take a chance on the question. “Ma’am, if I may ask, will this be written on my file?” 

The Admiral smiled. “No, Cadet. Unless this investigation finds either or both of you of misconduct, no formal charges will be given. I hope the truth is as you say.”

“Thank you.” 

Her only thought as she left the office was at least she was not asked about her _personal_ feelings for the Commander. Nyota doubted she could lie well enough under Admiral Lui’s hawkish gaze. 

She floated through her classes that day, finding it hard to focus knowing she was part of an ongoing investigation. Aside from the concert and the recent Thanksgiving break, she didn’t even socialize with Commander Spock outside of the office. At least, not deliberately. Should she have divulged the others times she ran into Commander Spock downtown? Should she have told the Admiral about sharing a meal with the Commander and his mother? That she had invited him to Thanksgiving lunch because she thought it was the right thing to do and that her roommate had been setting him up with someone? 

It annoyed her to think someone was thinking maliciously about their relationship, but she decided to give the accuser the benefit of the doubt. Reporting suspicions safeguarded against the potential sexual exploitation of students. There had been instances of members of the faculty abusing their authority, resulting in severe court marshal. Other teacher-student relationships develop mutually and genuinely, however, and it wasn’t unethical for as long as the teacher wielded no influence over the student’s grades. 

In conclusion, Nyota chalked up the incident as a misunderstanding. She just needed the Commander to inform her so. 

* * *

Spock thought the only logical explanation for the informal hearing requested by the Office of Superintendent of Personnel was that there must be a misunderstanding. The last instance he recalled ever being called to the office was when he was formally interviewed for the teaching post he had applied for. Even then, that session had been managed quickly. He hoped to clarify his case with similar efficiency.

As he was under suspicion of carrying an unethical intimate relationship with Cadet Uhura, he assumed the Cadet must also have been informed. It was a regrettable circumstance, and he only hoped the situation would not reduce their friendship. 

“Commander Spock, Admiral Lui will see you now.” 

Spock calmly walked in and remained standing before the Admiral. She beheld him with an indifferent gaze. “Commander Spock, thank you for coming as soon as your classes are done. Please sit.” 

He did as he was told and waited. He had been described to be many things but one that particularly stood out was _stoic_. After the brief silence, the Admiral began the meeting with a stern glare. 

“Let’s get straight to it then. Commander, last Saturday our anonymous tip line was alerted to a report concerning you and your teaching aide’s relationship. It is implied that it runs on more _intimately_ than what is permissible by our regulations. You of all people are aware of our codes against fraternization. We are mandated to investigate each suspicion.”

She paused and Spock understood it as a chance for him to acknowledge. “Of course, Admiral. Regulation is quite clear on the matter.” 

“What then do you have to say for yourself?” 

“The information received is false,” Spock replied, gaze unwavering. “Cadet Uhura and I are not romantically attached.” 

“Have you made any romantic advances toward her?” 

He remembered the desire he felt that time in the shuttle when he and the cadet had stood side by side. Her hands had been so close to his that it would have taken the barest effort to initiate _ozh'esta_. 

“Negative. That would be unethical.” 

Admiral Liu sighed. “I was sent these.” She projected images of surveillance stills featuring him and Cadet Uhura returning to campus together on several instances. One, from the night they attended the ka’athyra concert. They stood by the campus shuttle stop where he and the cadet had parted ways. The time was marked at 2233 hours. 

The second and third image were simply two vehicles entering the campus gate at 0042 and 0045. Spock viewed the next images. One was of him getting dropped off by the vehicle from the previous image, his body was angled toward the faculty building. The next surveillance image showed Cadet Uhura in her short skirt and bare shoulders emerging from the same vehicle captured at 0042 hours. It was easy to deduce the insinuation that they had been together prior to arriving at the Academy. 

“Can you clarify the circumstances for me? Specifically the nature of these late evening excursions?” 

He swiped through the last image: another one of him and the cadet walking from the Academy shuttle stop together. They were both in uniform, and the date and time stamped on the image matched the evening when the cadet had dinner with him and his mother. Whoever his accuser was, he or she had taken the time to access and search the Academy surveillance records in order to present an image of misconduct. 

“Commander?” 

Spock tore his gaze off the images. “Certainly, Admiral. The first picture shows our return from a concert I had invited Cadet Uhura to.” 

“ _Why_ would you invite her to a concert?” Her tone suggested that there could only be one conclusion, which was illogical.

“At that time, I was aware that my aide was quite uneasy in my presence. As she would be assisting me till the end of the school year, I thought it was important to foster a more friendly relationship with her, as was advised by Captain Pike. As an effort to be more _approachable_. I was made aware that Cadet Uhura appreciated music, and, as I had an extra ticket to spare, it was logical to invite her.”

Admiral Lui considered his words. “Are you aware that your intention can be misconstrued?” 

“In this very image, Cadet Uhura had insisted on paying me for the ticket before we parted ways. I did not understand the gesture, but she later explained what you suspect. I confess I am not very familiar with the nuances of human courtship rituals. The notion did not occur to me. In Vulcan, we have very different practices.” 

“Perhaps sharing a simple meal would have been more appropriate,” the Admiral said dryly. 

“I did that as well, though the circumstance had been coincidental. I encountered Cadet Uhura at Pleasant corner Lincoln Street on the 8th of September. I was on my way to the Chinese restaurant for my evening meal, and the cadet was heading to a Japanese restaurant with the intention of taking out her evening meal. Since our route converged, we walked the remaining way together. When Cadet Uhura found that her restaurant of choice was closed on Mondays, I presented her the alternative of joining me at my chosen restaurant which serves an aubergine dish I quite enjoy.” He retold the story in detail, hoping his transparency will settle the misunderstanding. 

“Which restaurant was this?”

“Lucky Chan. It is at—” 

“I am aware of that place, Commander. Perhaps you ought to consider dining in more acceptable places like the cafeteria or the establishments close to campus that faculty and students both frequent.”

His gaze remained unwavering. “Your feedback is noted.”

The woman leaned back in her chair and exhaled. “Alright. And the next few images? The cadet’s manner of dress . . .” 

“Another coincidental meeting, Admiral.” 

Gretchen Lui held out a stern finger. “I’m beginning to suspect these coincidences, Commander.” 

“I was with Captain Pike that evening,” Spock stated. “We had dinner at a Japanese restaurant called Zensho located inside the Gold Orient Hotel. Captain Pike had too much to drink, and it had been his inebriated idea to walk toward Oakland Bridge to admire it from a closer vantage point. It was also the very same area Cadet Uhura happened to be that night.” 

“Did you know she was going to be there?” 

“Negative. Cadet Uhura’s recreational hours are her private affair. I recognized the cadet at the location in the company of a male while I was with Captain Pike. I then called a transport for the captain given the late hour. Before I hailed my own transport back to the academy, I thought it was only prudent to assure the cadet’s safety. She is my teaching aide, after all. It was late, and there were many inebriated youths in the area. When I saw her alone, I inquired about her welfare. She expressed a willingness to return to her dormitory; so I assisted her in hailing her own transport.” 

“Can Captain Pike verify your statement?” 

“Yes, I believe he can.” 

The Admiral spent a few seconds in thought. “You both had the same destination, wasn’t it logical to share a transport?” 

“That would have been inappropriate. It was late and the cadet was not sober. Furthermore, I thought it wise to avoid giving anyone the impression that we were together on an evening excursion when it was not the case.” 

She swiped to the last image. “And this? Returning from another late evening _date_?”

“Cadet Uhura was sent to participate in a diplomatic community program as a representative of Starfleet Academy. My mother, as Ambassador Sarek’s wife, was one of the organizers and she was impressed with the cadet. She invited Cadet Uhura to partake in an evening meal with us.” 

“Is the cadet in good terms with your mother?” 

_What a peculiar inquiry,_ Spock thought. “They were amiable over dinner, but I’m not privy to the exact nature of their relationship at present. Is there any other information you wish to know, Admiral?” 

She seemed to consider her next words with great care. “Alright. Pardon the bluntness, Commander, but are you and Cadet Uhura having sex?” 

“Negative. As she is not my mate, it does not serve me to engage in sexual activities with her.” 

He knew many humans regard physical intimacy as a casual arrangement. It was common for an unattached human to have several sexual partners without necessarily engaging in courtship. In Vulcan, mating was often done between bondmates for the very purpose of strengthening their bond. It was a logical means to preserve the stability of the family unit.

Spock observed the Admiral’s miniscule smile and wondered if she found humor in his reasoning. 

“Very well. Thank you for clarifying the issue at hand,” the woman said, shutting down the projection. “The circumstances you mentioned can be easily misunderstood by observers, people who are not familiar with your ways. At the moment, I am satisfied with your answers, though, of course, I will still need to corroborate the facts.

“I hope I will not err in saying that I judge this case to be a misinterpretation of events and I am inclined to submit my report as such. However, moving forward, I do advise you to practice more caution, Commander Spock.” Admiral Lui intertwined her fingers together. “The reporter may have truly believed you were conducting an affair with your teaching aide. But it could also be that the reporter wanted to ruin your reputation. It could be both too. I am aware of the recent privilege granted to you by Starfleet. As head of personnel in this Academy, I am proud of your achievements. But I also know that not everyone finds the decision favorable. Please proceed with more caution.”

It was also something he had considered during the course of the interrogation. “Thank you, Admiral.” 

“That is all, Commander. You may get in touch with your aide to address this investigation with her. I expect to submit my formal report by the end of the week. Pray you don’t receive any more messages from my office, Commander, until then.” 

Spock bowed and calmly strode out of the room. He was two feet from the door when the Admiral spoke out in a manner considerably softer than when she was interrogating him. “Oh. And maybe you should know, your teaching aide actually thinks very highly of you.” 

Hearing the fact warmed his ears and Spock promptly removed himself from the office before his biological response could incriminate him. He doubted revealing his harbored sentiment for Cadet Uhura could be of favor for him in a fraternization investigation.

* * *

She received a message from the Commander on Tuesday informing her, in typical brief manner, that they were subject to a fraternization investigation but that they were not prohibited to continue regular work. She was expected to report to his office as usual after class on Wednesday. 

Nyota knocked on his office door at 1551 and strode in. Their last meeting had only been a few days ago on their trip to Starbase Portsmouth, but the time in between then and the present seemed so stretched out that Nyota wondered if it was because the investigation had made her anxious or because she simply missed him. 

He looked as he always did behind his desk: eyes focused on his computer spare for the glance he would give her, hair perfectly straight, and his posture practically modelled after the ideal textbook spine alignment. Nothing suggested anything out of the ordinary. She settled into her space in silence, knowing the Commander would address her once he was either finished with his task or when he could reasonably take a break without breaking his flow of thoughts. 

She glided through her routine of preparing tea, and by the time she was done admiring her thriving plant and watered it, he spoke. 

“Cadet, I believe you have spoken with Admiral Lui. Do you have any concerns about the inquiry we were both subjected to?” 

Nyota took her seat and made herself comfortable. “No, sir, the Admiral was quite clear.” 

“I apologize for the incident and if it has caused you any negative emotions,” he said. To a normal person, his apology would be considered utterly insincere and robotic, but, knowing him, Nyota could tell he really meant it. He wasn’t only being polite. 

“It’s been on my mind, but I wouldn’t say I was deeply bothered. You don’t need to apologize for it. It’s not your fault. It’s all just a misunderstanding.” 

His pause made her doubt. 

“I have discussed the matter with Admiral Lui and have clarified the evidence laid out against us.”

It was fortunate she had already swallowed her tea as it was possible she would’ve choked. “ _Evidence?!_ We’re not even—What kind of evidence?” 

The Commander maintained his calm. “Images captured by the Academy surveillance system of us entering campus after a seemingly joint excursion to the city. The evidence is suggestive but not incriminating, and I am confident Admiral Lui does not think we are guilty of misconduct. On the contrary, she hinted at the possibility of a smear campaign. I have the same theory.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “So you mean this was all a deliberate attempt to ruin you?” 

“I speculate so.” He was so neutral about it one would think he was discussing the weather rather than an attempt by an unseen antagonist to slander him. 

“I guess whoever reported us was well prepared.” 

“My thoughts precisely. It is with this line of reason that I offer my apologies.” 

Nyota smiled. “But that’s illogical. Whoever reported this should be the one apologizing.” It gave her satisfaction to spot the small uptick on the right corner of his mouth. 

“I meant to be polite. I have recently learned that apologizing is viewed as good manners. After considering this, I conclude unnecessary apologies must serve as a form of sympathy.”

She laughed and raised her mug to her face. “Yes, I suppose so. It’s quite illogical. You don’t need to conform to those customs when around me though.” 

“That is noted.” 

“Do you know who could have done this?” 

“Negative. Though I do intend to inquire with the security staff if anyone had requested access to the videos in the past month. The best course of action is to proceed as normally as possible. I may also be mistaken and the reporter simply thought of reporting what he perceived as misconduct.”

“So you think it’s a _he_?” 

“Judging my interactions with all genders, I perceive males to exhibit more antagonistic behavior towards me.”

“And the females?” 

Spock raised a brow. “I believe you are teasing.” 

She was. His reaction was too adorable not to get a good laugh out of it. “It’s hard to imagine that any female would perceive you negatively. I mean, you may be intimidating, but there are far more guys out there who are worse.” Nyota continued: “I think you should consider looking into all the other applicants for both roles you’ve been assigned to on the Enterprise. That’s probably the motive of this personal vendetta.” 

“Your logic is sound. I have already requested it from Captain Pike.” 

She blew into her tea and sipped. “I hope we’re wrong though. It doesn’t do Starfleet credit to have such petty, insecure, and cowardly officers like that.”

“Indeed.”

They fell back to their usual manner of working and chatting, and even after she had finished grading her papers and answering student emails she lingered in the office for the sole purpose of carrying on with their conversation on the superior technology and various program features installed on the NCC-1701.

By the time she got back to her dorm, it was past 1900 hours, and Gaila was studying in her underwear. 

“That looks new,” Nyota commented as she removed her boots and took off her own top. 

“It is. I got it in a new boutique in LA. It’s synthetically made to resemble the fabric spun from the rare Dedestris flower, and I must say it’s as soft and delicate as the real thing!”

Nyota snuck another peek. It was actually very sexy, she admitted to herself, which made her think about the last time she bought new underwear. It had to be when she was still a freshman in the academy. 

“Hey, Ny, I thought you should know that two friends asked me today if you and Commander Spock were a thing.”

Nyota paused before taking off her trousers. “That’s crazy. What did you say?” 

“I told them you were carrying his love child—”

_“What?!”_

“Relax! I was being sarcastic. I eventually told them no just because I know that’s what you would want me to say. But you should know that there’s a rumour going around. Who knows, maybe I’ll hear that you’ve had office sex with Commander Spock next week.”

Was the same person who reported them responsible for these rumours? Did that mean their accuser is inside the Academy? Nyota reached for her PADD and considered informing the Commander. But if Gaila said were true (and she knew no one else more reliable than her roommate), then the harm had been done. She can only hope the rumour will die down soon. 

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” 

Nyota bit her lip. She hadn’t confided about the fraternization report yet, but after meeting with Commander Spock and getting a better grasp of the situation, she analyzed it wouldn’t do them both harm to have an ally to their cause. 

“Actually, Commander Spock and I are under investigation from Admiral Lui herself,” she said. Nyota cleared her throat and busied her hands by rummaging through her closer for a pajama set. “For fraternization.” 

“Oh shit.” Gaila got up from her seat and came to sit on the bed. “Do they actually have anything to prove it?”

“Commander Spock said something about some clips of security footage, but he thinks it’s a weak case.” There was something in the Orion’s look—like she looked really _concerned_ and that threw Nyota off guard. “Wait. Why did you think they could have anything? There’s totally _nothing_.” 

“Oh? I don’t know. Isn’t that the nature of an evidence—” But Gaila looked rather shifty.

Nyota pulled out a camisole from her drawers so hard that it messed up with the recently imposed order of her wardrobe. “Gaila, do you actually think I’m having some kind of illicit relationship with Commander Spock?!”

“I don’t know, _okay?_ ” Her roommate retorted, “I thought it was possible!” Nyota was still glaring at her when Gaila grinned all cheekily and boldly asked: “Are you?” 

Obviously, the Orion felt very secure in their friendship. 

“NO!” 

“Okaaaaay!” 

Nyota pursed her lips and sat at the foot of the bed, still looking cross. In the few seconds of silence, she calmed down. Gaila knew exactly how to push her buttons and make her pull up all defenses. The only time she employed that strategy was also when she knew the truth, or in this case, _guessed_ to know the truth. Either way, it was clear that she knew something. 

“Why did you think it was possible?” 

Gaila winced and it confirmed her assumptions. 

“Do you really want me to say it?”

Nyota’s shoulders slumped in surrender and she groaned. “Since when did you know?” 

If her roommate’s squeal didn’t reach the end of their dorm hallway, Nyota would swear by whatever material the academy invested in their walls. When Gaila was done hyperventilating and deforming her pillow over her groundbreaking admission, she hugged her knees and grinned from ear to ear. Seeing the joy on her friend’s face lightened up Nyota’s mood too and she smiled in spite of herself. 

“I’ve had my suspicions for _weeks_! Have you any idea how hard it was to keep it to myself while I was waiting for you to figure it out?” 

Nyota twirled the strap of her camisole in her fingers anxiously. “Was it that obvious? It all sunk in after Thanksgiving--” 

“Oo! That’s when I _knew_ for sure! I’ve been observing you two and you should’ve seen how hard you were trying not to act pissed off when clearly you were. To be fair, Christine was kind of flirty, but you were so defensive that it confirmed everything!” 

Gaila plopped herself down and hugged her pillow in bliss. “I ought to give myself a clap on the back for inviting Christine! Oh c’mon, Ny, if it makes you feel better, I was _never_ rooting for Commander Spock and Christine. I actually like him for you—”

When a pillow landed on her face Gaila sat back up to get right back into business. “So, what have you finally figured out?”

She’d said it so many times to herself, but it was different to speak the words out loud. With a few coaxing, Nyota mumbled: “I have . . . feelingsforCommanderSpock.” 

It was easy to tell that wasn’t the news Gaila expected to hear. “ _And?_ ” 

“Nothing! I like him. It’s like a little happy crush.”

“Nyota, you’re not in grade school. It’s perfectly _okay_ to express sexual desire for an instructor . . . or in your case kind of like a boss. Sort of. There’s so many kinky scenarios for you to work with!”

“I _don’t—_ ” She felt her face grow hot and was thankful her skin tone and genetics spared her from blushes. “I don’t think about him like that!” 

Gaila threw the pillow back at her. “Bullshit! You’ve never once thought about making out with your Vulcan Commander? _Ever_??”

“I told you, it’s _not_ like that. Not all feelings demand to be expressed sexually.” Nyota stood up and stalked to the bathroom while Gaila ranted about her being unbelievably repressed. As she turned on the shower and allowed it to drown out her roommate’s voice, Nyota came into terms with herself. Gaila was probably on to something about her suppressing her feelings, but she just didn’t want to think about Commander Spock beyond the boundaries of their current relationship. 

She liked him. She felt slightly giddy when he made her laugh (though sometimes she knew it wasn’t his intention), and she was simply happy to enjoy and appreciate their friendship. Their situation was precarious, however. He was faculty and she was a student, as their fraternization investigation made very clear. It would be easy to fall into wanting something that can’t be and that would only ruin everything. She didn’t want to experience the disappointment of a one sided attraction and risk becoming awkward around Commander Spock, not after they both went through the effort of warming up to each other. 

There was also the fact that she was just in an uncertain phase in her life. Her role as Commander Spock’s TA was only until the end of her junior year. Senior year would be dedicated to the remaining units of classes and her thesis. She wanted to be focused, and it didn’t seem likely she’d stay on the role even if it was extended to her again. Then there was the matter of her posting. Whereas Commander Spock was already certain of his role in the next five years at least, she was still in limbo. It was possible she could get assigned to the Enterprise after graduating from the Academy, but it was also possible her future application would be rejected. 

It was too complicated. And so Nyota told herself firmly that she was okay with how things are. 

She had to be.

* * *

Note: A big thank you to everyone’s support! I wouldn’t be drawing out this fraternization issue. Just thought it was something that needed to be tackled at some point in this story. Gaila is, as always, plenty of fun to write! 


	14. Old Wounds

The excitement for winter break was tempered with the looming arrival of final examinations, and, as she had expected, Nyota received an influx of student emails, particularly from those who didn’t do well in the midterms. The few who she couldn’t advise had no choice but to take up Commander Spock’s open consultation slots. It was a sign of desperation. 

Between her own studies and fulfilling her role as TA, Nyota invested an extra hour in her weekly choral practice to prepare for their holiday caroling fundraiser. Her physical combat training took less priority, which explained why Sulu managed to kick her ass in every sparring session since after Thanksgiving. 

When the tip of his wooden kali sword lightly poked the padded vest just above her collarbone, Nyota raised a hand in surrender. 

Sulu removed his helmet and looked her over. “Sorry, did I hit you too hard?” 

She shook her head and wiped off the beads of sweat on her forehead and nose. “No, but next semester, I’m choosing phaser shooting.” 

The man grinned and followed her to the bench. “Ready for finals next week?” 

Nyota shrugged. “I think so. It’s the extracurriculars that are stressing me out! I’m not yet done with my Holiday shopping.  _ And _ we’re having our caroling concert and benefit this weekend. Which reminds me, you should come and bring Ben! Proceeds will be donated to the Federation Council for the Protection of Refugees.” 

“Yeah, we can go. When are you going shopping? I need to get something for Ben’s parents.” 

“Most of my shopping is done here.” Nyota held out her and shook her PADD. “Tell me about Ben’s parents.” 

“I honestly don’t know much. This is the first time I’m meeting them. Every Asian lady would like a crate of oranges right? It’s practical, it’s full of fiber and vitamin C.” 

Nyota smiled as she typed something on her PADD. “How about a holiday fruit basket? That way you don’t need to get them both gifts.” 

Sulu browsed the selection of options she showed him and tapped on his pick. “I didn’t even know they sell stuff like this! Uhura, this looks great!” While he went through the payment process, he asked, “And it literally took you a minute to figure this out. I’ve been thinking about this ever since Ben invited me to spend the Holidays with his family! Who do you have left to shop for?” 

“The choir team and my family,” Nyota informed. “But it’s okay, I know what I’m getting them. It’s Commander Spock I’m having trouble with. I want to give him something that’s both nice  _ and _ practical, but everytime I see something I keep on getting the feeling that he doesn’t need it. Maybe I’ll just get him a can of tea . . .” 

Sulu grimaced and gave her a quick glance. “Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, how’s the Commander holding up with all that’s going on in the press?” 

He was referring to the issue with Donny Cowell, the rally leader for the ongoing protest for human job security who had become informed of the Starfleet recruitment board’s decision to offer Commander Spock  _ two  _ top level postings. The man had henceforth been using the Vulcan’s assignment as an example of “the Federation putting humans at a disadvantage” and as proof that human job insecurity will only be on the rise the more society welcomed off-worlders. 

When the news exploded two days ago, she’d been personally offended that people could twist what seemed to her a just reward to excellence and a promotion of diversity in Starfleet and use it to further their anti-immigration agenda. She had watched the interview with Gaila and even the look of his face pissed her off. He was smug and completely unapologetic about quoting statistics that ran counter to actual data published by the city labor department. 

_ Starfleet has exposed Earth to alien exploitation. Human unemployment has been on the rise in San Francisco ever since we opened our atmosphere to these aliens. It is a fact that is felt by  _ thousands _ of people! Case in point with Starfleet giving that Vulcan professor a generous offer of two jobs and even celebrating it. Starfleet’s just trying to get into bed with Vulcan because that’s what ass kissing looks like.  _

With Donny Cowell using coarse narrative and preaching injustice among his disgruntled allies, more of the public was tuning in. It was infuriating.

When she had reported for TA duties the following day after the interview, Commander Spock had remained generally indifferent to the attacks made against him—some of which was personal. He’d only said that he “will only continue to perform to the best of his abilities” in spite of the allegations being thrown at him. She thought him all the more admirable for taking the high road. To date, the Commander refused any request for interviews. Nyota thought she actually wouldn’t mind speaking up for him to the press if not for the risk that it might inflate the issue. Besides, a tabloid paper had already run a small piece about Commander Spock’s fraternization case, painting it as salaciously as possible. She was only referred to as a human student whom Commander Spock was allegedly “screwing around with”. It was absurd. For one, she wasn’t his student. 

“He seems un-bothered by it,” Nyota answered, followed by a shrug. “I guess it’s not like he can do much about it anyway. I guess that’s why I want to give him a really nice present if only to compensate for all the shitty things people are saying about him.” 

Sulu nodded his head slowly. “Riiight. Okay, I also don’t mean to be prying, but--” His quick scan of the room, which was safe to say they were out of hearing range from everyone else. “Do you guys have a  _ thing _ ? I’ve heard some guys talking about it in the locker rooms.” 

Nyota groaned. The campus rumors may have been overthrown by the more recent news concerning the Commander, but it was apparently still being actively discussed. She and Gaila had traced the source of the rumor to an anonymous Academy chatroom that came with a picture of her and Commander Spock returning to campus after the music concert. It had been deleted after two days but the insinuation has been taken up by plenty of people. The fact that they weren’t in their faculty uniforms seemed to have caused a stir and a few students (also irritatingly anonymous) even went so far as to insist that they did look really comfortable together. The gossip went off from there, all of them quite baseless and far fetched. 

Nyota supposed her friendship with a Vulcan went over people’s heads. Were Vulcans expected to be friendless and completely antisocial just because they were logical? 

One speculation had irritated her more than anything else when Gaila had shown it to her. 

Celtstar099 said:  _ “I think it’s possible she’s been sleeping with Cdr Spock since she was his student in AP. No one can be that good in Vulkansu. she obviously had help. she passes his class with flying colors and the next term she’s suddenly his TA? She’s also been single for a long time and now we know why. she’s not actually single…” _

The accusation that her linguistic achievements could only have been derived through a love affair or through unethical means stung. 

“No, Sulu, we do _not_ have any  _ thing _ . Whatever gossip you’ve heard, it’s  _ not _ true. I know I invited him for Thanksgiving and, in hindsight, it must have been weird but I told you Gaila was matchmaking for good fun.”

“So you don’t actually  _ like _ him?” 

Was he insinuating something? But Nyota wasn’t prepared to tell him. The only reason she told Gaila was because it was obvious she already knew it and she can never hold a lie with her. With Sulu, she wasn’t sure, and even if she was, she wouldn’t want to keep spreading word that she was crushing on Commander Spock. Not when she was half-hoping her feelings would run its quick course and sputter out. 

She tossed her water bottle into her pack and fastened the drawstrings. “ _ No, Sulu.  _ I admire Commander Spock, and I think he’s a good guy but . . . seriously?  _ No. _ ” When the cadet looked like he was about to ask a follow up question, Nyota cut him off with humour just as she palmed the attendance log scanner by the door. “I know what I should get Commander Spock for the Holidays. I ought to hire him a good PR agent.” 

It was the right thing to say because Sulu laughed and dropped the subject in favor of grabbing a bite at the cafeteria. 

* * *

Spock reviewed the shortlist of suspects he had prepared, projected on the wall of his quarters. He had applied basic statistics and process of elimination in his investigation and trimmed down his suspects to a total of 12 from the original list of 32 applicants for the position of First Officer and 17 applicants for the role of Chief Science Officer. 

All of the persons on his list were males and with whom he had a certain degree of interaction. He knew his accuser could very well be a member of faculty given that the man obviously had some kind of access to the security system. The vendetta also struck him impractical for a commissioned Starfleet officer to commit given the amount of workload imposed by starship operations. 

When he had checked the records of any faculty member accessing the security footage with the campus head of security, his search had yielded zero data. That either meant the footage was viewed by an authorized personnel and passed on to his accuser or the files were accessed illegally. He’d intended to review the security server, but that required more authorization. He’d taken up the matter with Admiral Lui who did not seem keen to pursue an actual investigation. The decision to his request was still under review. 

Shortly after he had submitted his request for authorization, he was informed by the faculty secretary that a news reporter had inquired for his contact information. The following day, three more reporters called in to ask for the same as well as other questions regarding his character and conduct as an instructor of the academy. Their tone, according to the secretary, had been more pressing. 

Later that same day, Commander Goldberg had come into his office to share a holo video of a pot bellied male with thinning dark hair named Donny Cowell addressing a group of reporters. It only made sense once he heard himself being referred to as “that Vulcan professor”. 

Listening to the aggrieved man’s narrative, he’d realized that he was being accused of usurping two positions aboard the future flagship and Starfleet was being criticized for allowing it when it can serve as jobs for two well-qualified  _ human _ individuals. A few remarks had been made about his inhumane intelligence and robotic character, aimed to discredit him to the public to which Commander Goldberg couldn’t help but voice out her disagreement. 

“What a load of shit—oh, sorry, Spock.” 

“If you mean to say that the statement is false, then I concur,” he’d said. 

The Commander had given him a pained look, a sign of human commiseration. He didn’t understand the sentiment but thought it kind of her. “The guy doesn’t know what he’s saying or if he does, he’s clearly distorting facts to serve his purpose. I can’t believe you got dragged into this.” 

Spock had switched off the projection and returned the device to his colleague. “It is an unfortunate occurrence. I can only hope the man can learn to speak with more factual accuracy than baseless statements about my personhood.” 

His reaction had astonished her. “Doesn’t this bother you?” 

“My input on the matter is irrelevant as it would not withhold Mr. Cowell from speaking it anyway. His entire speech is rooted in a personal grievance and he uses his platform to incite anger in the community. It is quite an emotional matter.” 

“I suppose so . . . but it’s outrageous all the same!” 

Inside his quarters, Spock stared at the faces of his potential antagonist. The attacks against his reputation by Mr. Cowell was now running in sync with the rumors Cadet Uhura had alerted him to that was being spread inside campus. It also came well timed, shortly after Admiral Lui informed him that the investigation surrounding himself and his aide was officially shelved. They both received a warning to practice more caution to avoid any misunderstanding.

Cadet Uhura, who had found the movement already infuriating when it was just beginning to stir public attention, became even more incensed. She had cited options he could take such as legal counsel and a personal interview with the press to clear his name, but he had refused her suggestions. It wasn’t the Vulcan way to engage with emotional antagonizing. And it wasn’t a novel experience to have others attempt to elicit an emotional response from him. 

The main material used by his childhood antagonists was his human lineage. They called his father a traitor and his mother a whore in the perverse logic of proving he was logically inferior to them. Now, Donny Cowell and his followers painted him as the exact opposite—a perfect android. He didn’t mind this description, finding that it praised his emotional control and efficiency. It was the suggestion that he had no place among humans and no right to his assignment that was maligning. 

Powering down his computer, Spock lit his asenoi and commanded lights off. He settled down on the cushioned pad with his knees on the ground and pressed his fingers together in meditation. Contrary to his demeanor, he did feel the pinprick of hurt watching the holo interview with Commander Goldberg. And the effect the rumors would be having on his aide was also distressing. Humans were biologically wired to be sensitive with their reputation. His only concern was that the salacious rumors surrounding their friendship and Cowell’s insults on his character would compel Cadet Uhura to change the friendly nature of their relationship. 

But as it was in his childhood, he had to endure. He had to maintain control. 

* * *

Her last class of the day (Subscape Mechanics) was cancelled in favor of giving them more time to review their course materials before examinations. Commander Spock had also advised her via message the previous evening not to report to his office that week as her assistance would not be necessary and that she should channel her efforts into preparing for her final examinations.

With the unexpected free time, Nyota took the opportunity to swing by the cafeteria to grab something warm to drink before hitting the library. Her usual morrocan mint tea latte was the only choice in her mind, and as she was lining up, she fished out her PADD with the intention of inviting Commander Spock to her carolling event. She meant to personally invite him, but as she won’t be reporting for TA duties, an electronic invitation would have to suffice.

Nyota drafted out several phrases before finally settling on simply sending the event poster. It seemed self explanatory enough. She had just hit send when someone tapped twice on her shoulder. 

“Uhura.” 

She remembered being the last in line before she got out her PADD, but apparently not anymore. Nyota met Bradley’s blue eyes and tried not to stare too long. 

“Oh, hey!” 

“Usual order?” 

She nodded, noticing the scarf he had on tucked inside the collar of his gray jacket. It wasn’t exactly inconspicuous being a bright azure blue. He caught her staring. “My mom’s Christmas gift last year,” he explained with a smile. “She finds neutral colors dull.” 

“It’s really nice,” she commented with a grin. She ordered her drink and was hit with a sense of _dejavu_. “Is that cotton?” 

“It’s from bamboo, I think. Really versatile and surprisingly cool in summers.” 

The fabric looked so soft it intrigued her. “Do you mind if I—” she reached out her fingers and waited for his confirmation. When he laughed and gestured for her to do as she pleased, Nyota rubbed the fabric in between her fingers. It felt as soft and silky as it looked.

“ _ Wow _ .” 

“It’s very soft—oh, your drink’s here.” 

She took her cup and waited as he relayed the same order of beverage. It was a stroke of inspiration that Commander Spock would look good in a scarf. It was practical as she knew he was sensitive to the cold, but not as cliche as a can of tea. 

“Okay, weird question, but would you know where your mom bought it?” 

Bradley’s brows creased as he fumbled with his scarf. When he caught on to the tag, he showed it to her. “You can check out this store. Thinking of getting one?” 

She typed the brand down on her PADD in case she forgot “Yeah, at least I want to get my shopping done before Sunday.” 

The man grabbed his drink. “Are you heading to class?” 

“To the library, actually.” She had some lessons to review for Federation law and planned to listen to old Romulan subspace transmissions in the library comms archives. “You?”

“Same.” 

They walked the short distance to the library making small talk about their holiday plans. The library was packed with cadets cramming for their finals, and the only spot she found was on a communal table. It was almost divine intervention. Right in the middle of the table was a space for two. It was slightly snug, but Nyota thought she’d rather have Bradley as her seat mate rather than risk someone else of a larger body frame squeezing in beside her. 

She pulled out her chair and laid out her PADDs into a neat stack, her colorful pens in a straight row. It was a ritual she’d do before every serious study session, and she could tell her seat mate found it curious. The corner of his blue eyes were crinkled with amusement. On his side, Bradley simply pulled out one PADD and a stylus pen. He draped his scarf and jacket on the back of the chair and took his seat. 

They got into their individual rhythm, and Nyota found that she actually liked studying with the guy. He was a lot more focused than Gaila, and it didn’t hurt that he was cute too. Forty minutes into her reading, Commander Spock replied to her invitation with four words:  _ this has been noted _ . He didn’t really say if he was going or not. Disappointment pricked her insides. 

“Hey, can I borrow your red stylus?” her seatmate whispered. 

“Huh?” Under the white light of the library, she could see his long lashes. It was unfair for any man to have such ridiculously long lashes. “Yeah, sure.” 

She didn’t know what his deal was. A part of her thought he was kind of flirting, but it was so subtle that she couldn’t be sure. She remembered him wanting to get her a drink but she had declined it. He was definitely interested. Nyota fixed her gaze on the legal texts she’d been reviewing but found her mind wandering back to her seatmate. Surely Bradley heard all about the rumor with Commander Spock. Did he believe it? Would he be sitting here with her if he did? She could smell the spicy notes of his aftershave. 

Nyota entertained the possibility that she could come to like Bradley. On the most basic level, she found him attractive, but she knew there was a lot more going for the guy than plain sex appeal. For one, they were both of the same species. She could actually develop strong feelings for him without needing to worry about propriety or wonder if they would be culturally compatible. 

It wouldn’t be complicated. 

* * *

In the 7.2 years that he’d been at Starfleet Academy, Spock never went to the annual holidays carolling fundraising event organized by the Academy Choral Club. It was often held at a music hall outside of campus; so he had never felt inclined to be bothered with a commute to the city in the miserably cold December weather.

This year was different because his aide happened to be a member of the club, and if he were to interpret the poster event she had sent him earlier that week, he guessed she was inviting him to go. Knowing his schedule was clear for Saturday night, he had immediately typed the event page on his PADD and purchased a seat as close to the stage as possible. It was a fair sum of credits, but since he also considered the cause the event was supporting to be worthy, Spock didn’t think twice of his purchase. 

As he had given Cadet Uhura a reprieve from TA duties in favor of her using the time for her reviews, Spock knew the carolling event would most likely be the last time he would see her for the year. Next week was the start of six days of final examinations and it culminated in winter break. He assumed his aide would be returning home for the break to spend the rest of the holiday season with her family. 

Spock glanced himself in the mirror and fastened the collar of his tunic shut. Weather forecast was 7 degrees. Spock kept it in mind as he selected his long gray wool coat. The academy provided direct transport to the music hall venue that departed from the main campus shuttle stop every 30 minutes between 1700 and 1900 hours. He took the earlier schedule to avoid congestion and arrived at the music hall by 1815. The venue had a cafe at the basement level where he thought he could purchase a hot beverage to warm him while he waited. He didn’t anticipate seeing Daily Star journalist Mr. Benedict Chang lined up at the cashier. The man waved at him just as he was collecting his choice of sandwich and waited for him to make his purchase.

“Commander Spock, it’s good to see you again,” Ben said with friendly cheer. “If you’re waiting for the concert, you can join me on my table. Sulu won’t be here until around an hour from now.”

The man was dressed well for the event, which added to the already favorable impression Spock had of him. “Good evening, Mr. Chang.” As there were no other tables available, he accepted the invitation and sat down on the round table for two.

Spock sipped on his tea. 

“Look, it’s really great I got to see you before the event,” Ben started, voice low in an almost whisper, “I think you should know that I got a tip that some Cowell supporters will be here tonight to stage their protest. I don’t think they’re bold enough to make a scene inside the venue but you should be on your guard, Commander.”

Spock took in the information wordlessly. It wasn’t common for Starfleet Academy to have events open to the public, but given the nature of the concert which was primarily a fundraising event for the Federation Council for the Protection of Refugees, it aimed to spread more awareness among the general public. He thought it was reasonable for protesters to be present. It was an excellent opportunity to make their grievances heard. 

“I’m telling you because you’ve been one of their favorite targets as of late,” Ben said in a sympathizing voice. 

“Acknowledged. To disrupt the event would lend leverage to their message, and it is certainly within their rights to do so for as long as order was maintained.” 

Ben seemed to be surprised with his stance but only smiled in response. It was the fairest assessment. 

“Any plans for the holidays, Commander?” 

Spock sipped on his tea and relished the warmth. “I have recently been assigned a new project by Admiral Barnett. I expect to make substantial progress on it through the break.”

Most people would insert a patronizing comment about the merits of rest or taking a vacation, but Ben only nodded, accepting the fact as it was given. They went on to discuss other Terran news. Spock found it overall a pleasing task to socialize with the man. They talked about immigration, and how it remained a persistent issue that has spanned centuries (and arguably millenniums) of Earth history. It was a problem more unique to Earth as no other species in the Federation welcomed diversity as much as humans.

As of the latest population census, settlements of other species on Vulcan were infestimally small at 0.03% of the total population. Despite being one of the founding members of the Federation of United Planets and its support of the vision of a galaxy at peace, the Vulcan philosophy required a certain level of exclusivity. 

Everyone within their society was expected to respect and adhere to the code of logic and to do otherwise would risk the sense of order and harmony his ancestors had once fought to establish at the expense of mass bloodshed. His half-brother was banished not just from their city of Shi’kaar but from the entire Vulcan planet because of his non-adherence to their laws and customs. Growing up, it had been forbidden to even speak of Sybok in the presence of his father.

Humans, on the other hand, valued diversity. Even though it inevitably led to dramatic tensions and wars between Terran races and other off-planet species, Earth history was consistent in its advocacy of inclusion, its belief of individual liberty generously extended to all. It was a concept that was fought for repeatedly in the past centuries, benefiting the planet’s economy as a whole and forcing Terran society to constantly evolve and adapt. It was what gave birth to the notion of a United Federation of Planets, a mere galactical extension of the ancient Earth council called  _ United Nations _ that was established to promote peace and welfare. 

If there was something he could admire in humans, it was their adaptability. They could learn to live in harmony despite the differences. In his opinion, Vulcans had much to learn in that area. 

When his companion stood up and waved someone over, Spock guessed it must be Cadet Sulu judging from the expression of joy on the man’s face. It was what humans meant when they wrote about _ faces lighting up _ . He found it quite fascinating to observe.

“Commander Spock.” The cadet’s tone was one of surprise, a logical reaction to an unscheduled meeting. “Good evening, sir.” 

“Good evening, Cadet Sulu.” When Spock glanced at his PADD to check on the time, he realized he had spent the past 1.43 hours successfully and pleasantly socializing. The doors to the music hall were now open and they wordlessly agreed to walk in and take their seats. He parted from the company after the ticket scan. Spock had his seat on the fifth row from the stage, eight seats from the right aisle. 

By 1955 hours, the hall was at roughly 95% capacity--a successful turnout, he mused. The concert opened with a dramatic opening of the traditional red curtains. The Academy choral club was lined in four rows of eight. Cadet Uhura stood at the second row, near center, sporting red lips that contrasted nicely against the white dress she wore. 

The group opened with a carol medley dating back from the 19th Century:  _ O Come O Come Emmanuel  _ and  _ The First Noel.  _ Despite the religious origins, Spock found the orchestra playing and the vocal harmony of the choir to be satisfactory. The succeeding songs were taken from popular films pre-dating First Contact. He read the pamphlet as he listened and noted the origin of the songs such as  _ My Favorite Things _ from a movie called  _ The Sound of Music _ and _ All I Ask of You _ from the 20th century Broadway play  _ The Phantom of the Opera _ . Other songs had more contemporary origins, but Spock, not being one to keep up with such music, found it all unfamiliar. Nevertheless, the solo and duets were executed excellently. 

The concert concluded with a soulful rendition of _Amazing Grace_ after which the hall erupted into applause. Cadet Uhura smiled radiantly at the audience, and Spock flushed when she found his gaze. He saw her eyes flicker with recognition, and, when she grinned, Spock felt a squeeze in his heart. It was vain speculation but he felt that her smile, for a brief second, had been just for him. The choir bowed one last time amid the wild cheering and finally the curtain drew to a close. 

If this was to be their final meeting for the year, Spock deemed himself content. As he shuffled on following the general direction of the crowd towards the exit, he keenly felt an unexplainable sensation of lightness. The performance was so satisfactory that he even allowed a small trickle of pleasure to diffuse into his system. 

He retrieved his coat from the coat check and bundled himself up. As he neared the main exit, he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle at the faint sound of chanting coming from outside the venue. Walking beyond the threshold of the main gate, the scene took a different turn from the mellow cheer inside the music hall. Loud voices pierced through the crisp night air as a crowd stood behind a fence. They flanked both sides of the path, holding up signs and shouting their cause. 

The chanting of protesters took on a rhythm:  _ “This is our planet, humans should come first!”  _

Spock read the placards—most of them hand crafted from cheap materials. 

_ No More Aliens! Earth is a human home!  _

_ United Federation of Job Stealers  _

Walking down the path, the chanting changed to a different tune: “ _ Leave our jobs alone! Go back home!”  _

Human creativity was also being exhibited. Spock saw several drawings of humanoid species that seemed strangely misinformed. Andorians, for one, do not have horns. And Vulcans do not have red eyes or sharp canines. 

Spock came into eye contact with a male sporting a scruffy beard holding up the inaccurate caricature and was disconcerted by the fierce loathing in the man’s eyes. Years of combat training failed him at that moment and he missed the sudden movement to his right. Spock felt the impact of something hitting him and breaking, and he felt a sticky, mucus like wetness drip down to his fingers. A few seconds ticked by before he realized it was a raw poultry. The yolk was smeared on his coat sleeve. 

Someone had thrown him an egg. 

The next one came too quickly from someone in the crowd and hit him square on the cheekbone, and the riot broke out before he could fully recover from the shock. 

Several police officers lunged at the crowd to retaliate for the offense and he felt hands shove him from behind. He vaguely registered a voice asking if he was alright, but it was easily overwhelmed by the people shouting profanities at him. 

_ “Go back home! You don’t belong here!” _

_ “You pointy eared thief--give us our jobs back!” _

_ “Leave our jobs alone; go back home!”  _

“Commander Spock!”

Spock blinked and saw the face of Dr. Sangha. His eyes were wide and solemn with eyebrows drawn in and lips tightly pressed into a thin line. A woman—the doctor’s wife as he recalled their supposed nuptials last Thanksgiving break—stood beside Sangha and offered him a handkerchief, which Spock took gratefully to wipe the slime off his face and neck.

“Commander, we should get away from here.” 

He nodded and wordlessly pressed forward until they reached the road and a transport vehicle came to collect them. 

Sangha urged him to sit in the back with his wife while the man took the front seat. And up until the moment the door shut behind him, his ears rang with the words the angry crowd hurled at him.  _ Alien Thieves. Go back to where you belong. _

The silence inside the vehicle was stifling. 

“I’m sorry for that,” Sangha said with a deep sigh. 

Spock sat with as much dignity as he patted the stains on his coat with the handkerchief. He was hit, he realized, more than twice and not just with raw poultry. There was a red stain on the coat over his thigh that smelled offensive, but neither Sangha nor his wife mentioned anything about it. 

Not a word was exchanged until they got on the faculty housing lift where Spock felt particularly conscious of his soiled attire. 

“I apologize. I failed to inquire after your wedding.” 

Sangha’s wife smiled at him kindly. “It was an intimate affair but was absolutely perfect.” 

“Darling, I don’t think a hundred guests qualifies as intimate,” Sangha responded with a small smile, and turning to him, said, It was also a  _ long _ affair. After three days of getting married, I was exhausted and crawling my way to bed.” The humor the doctor injected into the conversation lightened the mood, and Spock appreciated it. 

When they reached his floor, Spock turned to the woman. “I shall return your handkerchief tomorrow, ma’am. It was kind of you to allow me to use it.” 

Mrs. Sangha shook her head. “There’s no rush, Commander. You can return it whenever it’s convenient. I’m so sorry this had to happen. You are  _ most _ welcome here.” 

Spock bowed and walked off the lift and toward his quarters. He deposited his coat on the laundry bin and made a mental note to schedule it for immediate cleaning. The top of his tunic was also moist with slime as raw poultry had dribbled down from when he was hit on the cheek. 

He turned on the shower, adjusted water temperature to a warm 40 degrees and stripped off his garments. It felt dirtier than the reality, but Spock was too exhausted to contemplate the ill logic of it. He felt as soiled as his coat, as if the stain had somehow penetrated into his skin. He lathered soap and rinsed himself thoroughly, but the rotten scent of whatever it was thrown at him still lingered in his nostrils. 

When Spock got out of the shower, the mirror had fogged over and his skin was tinged green from enlarged blood vessels circulating in his body. He stared at his reflection, and the eyes that stared back betrayed him with emotion. 

_ Look, he has human eyes. They look sad, don't they?  _

Spock tore his gaze from the mirror and toweled off his hair. It felt like something was clawing on an old wound he had long kept out of reach of his consciousness. 

_ You’re neither human nor Vulcan, and therefore have no place in this universe.  _

_ Leave our jobs alone; go back home! _

_ Pointy eared thief. Alien freak.  _

_ He’s a traitor, you know. For marrying that human whore. _

He nearly stumbled on his way to the mat and did not bother lighting his _asenoi_ or turning down the lights in his room. He didn’t want to be in the dark with such voices in his head. Spock clenched his fists and mentally wrestled the memories into a tight bind, wrapping it as tightly as he could. The effort demanded all of his discipline and he continued his attempts even when his control would slip over and over and a terrible sadness would seep into his veins and grip him by the throat. 

The task took only minutes but felt like hours. And only once he felt like he had regained adequate control did Spock dare to open his eyes. He was breathing heavily, his forehead, nose and upper lip damp with perspiration. When he slowly unclenched his fists, Spock felt the sharp protest of cramped, sore muscles and when he faced his palms up, he saw that he had carved small shallow crescents into his flesh with his nails. The pain felt negligible, however, even with small beads of green fluid oozing out of pierced skin. 

Spock has forgotten the last time he felt his energy so thoroughly depleted. He commanded lights out and surrendered himself down on the mat, not bothering to pick himself up and walk to the bed only 3.2 meters away. Only in the oblivion of sleep did his mind finally find peace. 

* * *

Watching the video of an angry protester egging the Commander made Nyota feel sick to her stomach. The short clip had been circulating like wildfire over the academy chat groups and was also featured in the evening news. It was a shaky video recording, but it had managed to capture the shock and bewilderment on his face when an egg hit him square on the side of his face. It was very subtle and the news anchor had commented on the look of indifference from the Vulcan, but she knew him better. She read the emotion on his face. There was also the three second pause when the Commander stood absolutely still, seemingly unable to process what had happened.

It was so humiliating for him that she wanted to cry. If she hadn’t invited Commander Spock to the concert, none of it would have happened. 

“Ny, it’s not going to help if you’re going to beat yourself about it.”

Nyota bit her lip and stared at the blank screen of her PADD. She’d been doing that for the past twenty minutes since she dared send the commander a message inquiring after his well being. She would have wanted to see him personally, but Nyota doubted charging into the faculty housing would go unnoticed. Even if she could make up some kind of excuse for being there, she didn’t want to add oil to the fire. 

Gaila was right too. She knew there was the possibility of a protest, but she never imagined anyone would have dared take the protest further. The Vulcan embassy had already issued a statement reinforcing the need for mutual respect and decency even in the exercise of liberty to protest. It was a bland statement owing to the fact that Vulcans were pacifists, but the statement was also a rare public address. Should the offense continue, the issue could escalate into a diplomatic concern. In response, Admiral Barnett also issued a statement condemning the act and emphasized that Commander Spock was one of the academy’s most esteemed graduates and his contribution was and can only be beneficial to all beings. 

“Finals start tomorrow, Ny. I know you like the guy, but you gotta compartmentalize your emotions,” Gaila reminded without taking her eyes off the worksheet she was answering for her review. 

She groaned under the pillow, and when her PADD vibrated, Nyota picked it up in a heartbeat. 

_ Cadet Uhura, I am well. Please do not concern yourself and focus on your upcoming final examinations.  _

She wasn’t expecting him to respond otherwise, but the fact that he responded already felt like a balm to her guilt. Knowing that he expected her to do well increased her resolve to set aside her emotions and focus on the matter at hand. She had Federation Law and Romulan tomorrow and one exam each on Wednesday until Saturday. 

Six days later, Nyota left her final exam for the term with a sigh of relief. Apart from a written examination, they also were required to analyze a faulty comms machine and reassemble it back to working condition. When she had finished hers, her device received a signal, proving that she could expect a good grade for the course. 

As she walked back to her dorm, she felt the waves of suppressed emotions: guilt and sadness, over the ordeal with Commander Spock. She hadn’t seen him all week except once when she spotted him walking to the faculty building. At the very least, she was assured that he was physically well. He had not been injured. Gaila also reported seeing him in the cafeteria one time two days ago and he seemed perfectly normal which was to say he was stoic and ate alone. 

Nyota jogged up the stairs till she reached her level. Aside from sympathy for Commander Spock, she also felt really excited. It was her last day on campus. She was due to go home tomorrow and the thought of hugging her mama and laughing in the same room as Maisha made her feel warm with love and gratitude.  But first,  _ presents _ . After depositing her bag on the floor, Nyota opened her closet and grabbed a parcel wrapped in emerald paper designed with gold snowflakes. She also went out of her way to purchase hot Masala Chai: one for her and one for the Commander to go with the gift. She had messaged him asking whether she could visit his office but received no response. Nyota decided to take her chances. 

By the time she walked into the faculty building, the sun was just about set and the sky was a fiery clash of pale violet and crimson orange. She knocked on the Vulcan’s office door and was relieved to know he was in. 

“Enter.” 

Spock didn’t expect to see Cadet Uhura, much less see her with a radiant smile plastered on her lips. He was in the process of reading a correspondent from a representative of the Vulcan embassy when she had knocked. 

“Cadet Uhura.” 

His response to her presence was a strong lurch of conflicting emotions. He felt pleasure in seeing her; yet also the recoiling sensation of shame. The video of his attack had been captured and aired on major news channels. Even the Vulcan news had covered the story, which was how his own mother came to learn of it. He was certain Nyota would have seen it and that bothered him. 

“I just finished my exams,” she explained. Spock raised a brow, noting that her statement did not clarify her presence in his office. He did not require her to come in, certainly not on her last day of examinations. 

“I presume it went well?” 

She shrugged and replied nonchalantly, “Well enough. I know you told me not to report today, but I got you something.” 

He noticed her carrying a tray containing two beverages with one hand and on the other hand carried a green object. He watched as she set a cup down on his table, and he detected the faint aroma of ginger, cardamom and tea. She then held out the green parcel with both hands and offered it to him. 

“A holiday present, sir.” 

Spock cautiously received the present, and when the cadet remained in her post, he looked curiously at the parcel. “Thank you, Cadet. I am uncertain how to proceed. Do I set the gift aside or do I open it? I must also inform you that I am unprepared to return the gesture.” 

Nyota snickered. “I’m not expecting anything in return, sir. It is a human holiday after all . . . but yes, open it!” 

At her encouragement, he gingerly peeled off the adhesives and unfolded the top to slide a box out. He found it fascinating that the gift came doubly wrapped, assuming the item the cadet meant to give was inside the box. Surely the second wrapping was unnecessary? When he opened the lid, it revealed a folded cranberry colored fabric. Further inspection yielded an answer: it was a scarf. And one that was quite soft to the touch. 

“It’s actually made out of pure bamboo fiber. It’s supposed to be able to keep you warm in winters and cool during the summer. I thought the versatility would suit you.” 

“I am not familiar with current fashion but it is practical,” he admitted, meeting her pleased gaze. “Thank you.” 

He felt suddenly inadequate for not buying her anything even though it was never his custom to do so. Spock folded the gift back into its box and set it aside. 

“Sir?” 

When he met her eyes, the joy had faded into apprehension. The cadet had the habit of biting on her lower lip when she was either nervous or apologetic. “Are you really okay? I’m so sorry about what happened—that it had to happen. I almost wish I didn’t invite you to the concert if it would have saved you from that attack.” She stubbornly held his eyes, wanting to hear an honest assessment of his welfare.

Spock was unsure of the cause, but he felt suddenly warm around the collar, and for a split second he felt something akin to hope flicker over the area of his myocardium. Could her concern be a result of a deeper sentiment? 

He remembered the emotions the incident unleashed: those of hurt and sadness. In the moments when he had been helpless before the magnitude of his feelings, he had experienced a deep pain without physical manifestation. It was familiar to what he had experienced as a child once he was out of sight of his antagonists. Back then he would bear the pain all the way home. With a stiff lip, he would enter his house, feigning to be alright before his mother to avoid worrying her needlessly, and head straight to his private chambers where only I-chaya could comfort him in his shame until he regained control. 

It had been a week since the incident, and the passage of time enabled Spock to view the incident logically and tamp down the negative emotions. 

“I am well. The incident could not have been foreseen, Cadet Uhura. Furthermore, regardless of the attack, I am pleased to have attended the concert. Your group executed a masterful performance.” 

The cadet blew softly to cool her beverage and took a sip. “I’m happy you came too. I wasn’t sure you’d come; so seeing you really made me happy. And with regards to the attack, I guess we can all be thankful the guy only threw eggs. It could’ve been worse.” 

“Indeed. Commander Goldberg has enlightened me on the many benefits of raw poultry on the skin. I believe it is a natural moisturizer.” 

His aide laughed, and Spock admitted to himself that he relished causing her happiness. “Are you returning to your native country for the break?” he asked. 

“Yes. I’m booked for a flight back to Nairobi. It’s still cheaper than travelling by transporter, and I don’t mind the journey.” 

Spock nodded. “The weather there is warmer, I believe.”

“Yes! I’ve packed my day dresses. It’ll be great to be warm under the sun,” she chatted excitedly. “And you, sir? Are you staying here for the holidays?” 

“Affirmative. I was assigned by Admiral Barnett to the Field Training Exercise committee as the original faculty member has resigned from the project due to schedule conflicts.” 

Nyota’s jaw hung open. “You’re designing next year’s training exercise?!” 

All junior and senior cadets were required to undertake the three day field training. The grade will weigh heavily on their overall GPA next term. Doing well on the T-Ex was also like a badge of honor. It lent credibility to one’s resume far more than any grade on any class. Unlike simulations, the training exercise would let them experience the scenarios first hand. It would be the direct application of everything they have learned: from combat training to protocol. 

“To an extent, affirmative.”

“I admit I’m a bit worried,” she half-teased, “It can be a challenging exercise. Maybe you should give me a few tips. We can be discreet.” 

To her relief, he caught on to her joke judging by the lightness in his tone when he said, “That would be unethical, Cadet. But there is a matter we should discuss.” He said the last sentence in a manner so serious that, for a split second, Nyota’s imagination ran wild with the possibilities. 

Would he finally address the rumors surrounding them? When she had casually mentioned student gossip to him while grading his quizzes weeks ago, the Vulcan had only said that baseless gossip usually only needed to run its course, quite like a virus. A small part of her had wanted to see more emotion from him. A flustered, mildly affected Vulcan was better than the cool, logical one whose nonchalance only emphasized his indifference to the concept of a romantic relationship with her. Would he discontinue her TA role next term out of a desire to start a different kind of relationship? Nyota indulged the fantasy in the brief pause that followed. 

But Commander Spock only said: “Kindly instruct me on how to water your plant.” 

Nyota stared at her small desk plant and rubbed its plump rounded leaves. She was careful not to let emotion betray her as she reprimanded the turn her thoughts took. 

“I will, sir, thank you for  _ plantsitting _ .” 

Spock raised a brow at the unconventional term. The conversation seemed to have dried up suddenly, and after a few notable seconds of silence, his aide mentioned needing to pack. He offered to join her on the way down as he also meant to return to his quarters. 

He cleared his table and stacked his PADDs neatly in the corner. As it would be cumbersome to hold both gifts in his hands; Spock unboxed the scarf and wrapped it around his neck. Without warning, the cadet reached out and tugged on a section of the scarf to cover a spot of skin he must have missed. Spock felt his ears burn at the gesture. 

“The color looks nice on you.”

He stared down at the festive shade and raised his brows. To concur would be self-praise, and Nyota guessed as much judging by the way her smile widened. 

“Sir?” They just walked past the exit of their building when his aide looked at him. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.” It was said so abruptly that he failed to muster a response. Nyota continued holding his gaze, looking both determined and embarrassed. “I know there are some people who think you shouldn’t have a place here, but you do. You belong here.” She broke into a sheepish grin. “I-I just thought I’d clear that up. Happy holidays, Commander.” 

He found his tongue just in time to catch her before they parted ways. “Thank you, Cadet.” 

As Spock walked the way back to the faculty housing, he felt an enveloping warmth that churned in his stomach and sent a slight tingle to his fingers. He logically attributed it to be partly due to the scarf that now comfortably shielded his neck from the elements as well as the warming effect of hot Chai Masala within his palm. 

_ And Cadet Uhura, _ his mind added, recalling her words only seconds ago which, to her credit, was a far superior gift than both the tea and the scarf.


End file.
